


Star-Crossed

by SammyLovesASOIAF



Series: Lumen [1]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BAMF Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Biblical References, English isn't my first language so pardon my mistakes, F/M, Fluff, Kidnapping, MichaelIsADick, More Demiurge, My First Work in This Fandom, Soft Chloe Decker, Soft Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Unbeta'd, deckerstar fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:47:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 50,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27133384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SammyLovesASOIAF/pseuds/SammyLovesASOIAF
Summary: As Chloe and Lucifer finally get together after years of a will-they-won't-they romance, Michael descends to earth with a nefarious plan to bring about the coming of a new age.Fate always led them back to each other.Fate always led Lucifer Morningstar to Chloe Jane Decker.That had to count for something, right?It's a pity, though, that prophecies tend to fulfill themselves.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, God & Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Trixie Espinoza & Lucifer Morningstar
Series: Lumen [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980496
Comments: 77
Kudos: 143





	1. The Catalyst

Small details were usually ignored.

Those seemingly insignificant things一that Uriel used in his manipulation of patterns一when put together could create an effect that was bigger than the biggest subterfuge. The butterfly effect may have a relatively friendly name, but it illustrates that even the single flap of a butterfly may have catastrophic effects for a person, a society, a country, or even a whole world. 

Michael knew this. After all, it was how he was able to influence his brother a millennia ago. A little whisper here and there, and voila! A rebellion in Heaven, a sexcapade in the Garden, and eons of punishment一all because Michael knew how to move those little pieces. 

His twin had always made a wonderful pawn, always too self-absorbed to play the great game. 

So as Lucifer threw his phone out of the window in an attempt to establish an air of mystery for the miracle, he unknowingly started a chain of events that would ultimately lead to the great reckoning. 

_A phone call was the catalyst._

For Father’s sake, Lucifer was making it too easy, too damned easy for Michael, and yet Amenadiel thought the Devil would win.  
The Prince of Heaven smiled, all flashing teeth, as Dan ended the call and retraced his steps. 

_**Five** mortal lives_

_**Four** damning horses_

_**Three** different planes_

_**Two** little creases_

_**One** ineffable plan_

Daniel almost fell on his backside in his haste to get away from the terrifying scene playing in front of him. Amenadiel had his left hand draped on Lucifer’s shoulder, while the King of Hell cradled little Charlie in his arms. However, in place of the consultant’s devastatingly handsome features was the face of a monster. 

Dan forced himself to breathe. 

Instead of the club owner’s curling hair, midnight eyes, and chiseled face, there was the face of nightmares. Reddish scars and scarlet scabs bedecked the bald head of the creature. Its crimson gaze blazed, hinting that it possessed unimaginable power. 

The Devil was real, and he was a civilian consultant for the LAPD. 

_Daniel Espinoza was the medium._

Daniel stumbled out of his car, holding his fifth beer of the evening. He'd been crying, but he could not seem to stop.

In the eerie silence of the cemetery, along the rows of slabs of marble, he tried to find comfort, answers, help...anything.

For most of the night, Daniel had sobbed, kneeling in front of Charlotte's tombstone. 

\---

“I'm terrified, Charlotte,” Dan pleaded. “Please, I don’t know what to do...” The tombstone glinted in the light of the rising sun, but aside from the soft drip drip drip of morning dew unto the marble, there was no reply. 

"I need help," he cried. "I need g-guidance, I need...I need...I need a sign, I need so-something!"

A soft whooshing followed by the rustling of leaves and swaying of branches made Daniel look behind him. His hands shielded his eyes as a ray of light shone from the skies above. A figure in white descended from the clouds, his arms wide open, but the sight of two great wings made Dan stagger in fear. 

Inky black wings slowed the angel's descent, and he landed gracefully in front of the terrified detective. 

But as the angel drew nearer, his face a mirror image of a certain club owner's, Dan's eyes widened, and he remained curled against the slab of stone. "Lucifer!" He gasped. Closing his eyes, he uttered, "No! No! No! Please!" 

"Be not afraid," he began. "Daniel Espinoza, your prayers have been answered."

"Lucifer," Dan panted, tears streaming down his face. 

Lucifer must have known that he was the one who told Tiernan about Julian's broken back. 

Fuck, this was it. He was going to Hell. Why else would the Devil come looking for him?

Michael brought his hands up in a placating gesture, his white robe gleaming in the early morning light. "I'm not Lucifer," he smiled _kindly_ at the detective. This was the human who was undeserving of his name. This was the human who had lain with his mother. This was the human who would kill his twin brother. This was a human destined for Hell. 

Ever the cliché, of course, his twin would surround himself with disgusting sinners. 

"Look," Michael said, pointing at the slanting scar on his face. "He did this to me." The smile dropped from his face. "My twin brother hates me because I am his opposite一the good to his bad," he added.

"Perhaps you've heard of me." Michael put his hands together as if he was praying, his jet black wings contrasting with his pristine robe, and introduced himself, "I am the Archangel Michael."

"Archangel?" Dan asked. He was safe. He was safe. Surely, Saint Michael would save him from the Devil.

"Yes," Michael replied as he stepped towards Dan. "I know that you're struggling. I know that you're afraid of going to Hell, but I bring you good news, Daniel." 

He knelt beside the distraught man like how humans envision guardian angels in their art. "Your redemption is not lost. There is a way for you to right all your wrongs..." he started. There wasn't, but the human stain didn't know that. Unless Dan got rid of the guilt he felt for his wrongdoings, he was bound for Hell. "...A way for you to protect your loved ones," he continued, offering a hand towards Daniel. 

_Michael was the puppeteer._

His twin’s weaknesses lie with the mortals, with Daniel, Ella, Linda, Charlie, and Beatrice. 

Oh, Michael was looking forward to the coming months. 

He had big plans for them.


	2. Zing! Love At First Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time in his life, he was content, like a missing puzzle piece finally slid into its proper place.

Complete.

Lucifer felt complete. 

For the first time in his life, he was content, like a missing puzzle piece finally slid into its proper place. He blinked slowly, taking in the messy bedroom. Mess reminded him of Hell, but he could not find it in himself to hate it now, not when it involved Chloe and some rather exciting activities. Soft pillows littered the carpeted floor while various clothing lay strewn across the room. Light filtered through the thin curtains, beautifully illuminating Chloe’s sun-colored hair.

 _Chloe_ , he smiled, _not ‘Detective’._

Speaking of the _him_ , Chloe shifted in her sleep, and her fingers twitched on their own accord. Lucifer braced himself on his left arm and watched her as she slept. Not quietly, Dad, no, she was—snoring. Once, a lifetime ago, he told her she snored like an Albanian field wench, and he would never tell her this, but he’d brave the horrors of Gehenna if it meant he’d hear her snore like that for one day more.

And just like that, the high he’d been feeling waned a bit. The mention of his dreary kingdom, as always, proved to be an effective buzzkill.  
Lucifer sighed.

He was not stupid. He knew this was only temporary. The Devil does not get a happy ending, and that’s just how it goes. He was the main antagonist of God’s ineffable story, after all. But he’s got her now, at least for a couple more years, and then he’d slink back into the darkness where he truly belonged, wallowing in despair, forever mourning that she went where he could not follow. At least he’d have memories of her and, of course, the little urchin to keep him company in the afterward, the hellish eternity that awaited him post-Chloe. 

Golden silk and black wool sheets were draped across Chloe’s waist, painting a picture of a sated nymph. Her body was bare save for his white shirt that she insisted on wearing. He didn’t mind because it looked better on her anyway, and he would be damned—oh wait, been there, done that—if he let her wear her ruined top. He was many things, but he was not cheap, thank you very much, although seeing her in his shirt reminded him of the months that he’d been gone. 

He imagined that she visited the penthouse, donned one of his expensive shirts as she cried over him in bed, in the privacy offered generously by silence and solitude. But he reckoned she probably refrained from actually stepping foot in his home, barring Lux, which he knew she went to because Amenadiel told him that she and Maze had hung out in the club, partying, probably trying to forget, possibly learning to live without him.

In truth, he hadn’t wanted to leave, but Dromos and his band of demonic miscreants forced his hand. He could not have stayed, for the demons were creatures of the night, and they would continue to defy him if they were not punished accordingly. They would have continued to venture topside by possessing recently deceased bodies to sow discord on earth if only to call his attention. It would have been hell on earth. So he stayed in Hell for six earthly months.

Then he came back, just like he came back from Vegas when he left on her birthday.

She was also wearing his shirt then. “It’s comfortable,” she had said. “And it seemed like a good idea at the time.” Then he’d given her the necklace because he’d been so sure there won’t ever be a “them.” He convinced himself that it was for the better; that he was returning the free will she was unknowingly robbed with, for who could ever choose to love the Devil?

He realized then that he would live for her and die for her, but he would never have her. He remembered consoling himself with the truth that she would be in the Silver City when she passed, bored in her eternal life, but at least she wouldn’t be suffering in the depths of Hell. He decided then that if he pursued her, he would only corrupt her, taint her pure soul and endanger her and the offspring. If he thought about it that way, it didn’t hurt.

Not as much.

Looking back now, he conceded, it hurt like a bitch. 

She was everything he ever wanted, but just like always, he was left wanting for his true desire, unable to be with her. How ironic was it that others came to him to fulfill their greatest desire, and yet he could not fulfill his own? He had been blinded with bitterness, fully convinced that Chloe’s existence was part of another cosmic joke devised by dear old Dad to taunt him. 

Dear Father, he’d been so incredibly stupid!

Lucifer shook his head.

Truthfully, he was afraid of commitment in general. Who wouldn’t if your own family casted you out, ignoring you while you prayed for salvation as you burned and healed and burned again? But he was willing to try for Chloe. 

Until he learned that she was a miracle, that is.

His mother, the manipulative goddess that she was, used the circumstance to break him and convince him to return to Heaven, but with the remnants of his broken heart, he left Los Angeles for Sin City instead. Chloe didn’t deserve to be part of his Father’s otherworldly chess, and so he ran off to Vegas and married Candy. A foolhardy attempt at restoring her free will, he knew now, because she never lost it in the first place. 

He had wasted so much time with Chloe. And now he feared there’s too little time. He could feel something brewing, could almost hear the wind’s harsh whispers of _Beware! Beware!_

If only he were a different devil, one who was less unsure, less broken, less selfish, less… _him_. He knew there was no sense in lamenting the things that were, but he couldn’t help it. If he only had the courage to show Chloe his angel wings, even though it represented everything he hated, longed for, and lost, she wouldn’t have been manipulated by that vile priest Kinley, then the man wouldn’t have died, the demons wouldn’t have tried to take Charlie to Hell, and he wouldn’t have had to leave.

Somehow, everything bad that’s ever happened, every miscommunication and every missed opportunity, stemmed from his bluffs and his inability, and sometimes unwillingness, to tell the whole truth. Because for all his pride of not being able to lie, he twists his words to reflect a shallow truth to prevent questions from being asked. In his defense, the whole truth can be too sensitive, unbelievable, and unfathomable by human standards, so he deliberately answers in a most generalized way, allowing those who asked to draw their conclusions, steering them clear from divine-related issues that can fry an ordinary human brain.

This had worked for a time, but Chloe was a detective. There were too many inconsistencies and oddities that surrounded him, which had pushed her to probe deeper than any other, mistaking his equivocation for unreliability and emotional instability instead of celestial pigheadedness, and, alright, a little emotional instability, which led to more arguments, misunderstandings, and her almost shotgun wedding to Cain—stone-faced Cain of all sinners! 

He was trying to be a positive devil for a change, but it was hard not to think about all of his mistakes.

It was hard to forgive himself when all sins had been blamed on him for millennia.

It was hard not to blame himself when that’s all he ever knew.

It was hard to understand when he was eons old and too set in his ways.

He’s trying, though. He’s trying to be a better devil for Chloe because she made him want to be better, and because she deserved better. Would that it were easy to banish the doubt that’s ever so silently creeping at the back of his mind, ready to strike once he showed even an ounce of weakness.  
But as Lucifer felt the warmth radiating from her body, he dismissed the voices whispering in his ear, telling him he was utterly undeserving of her boundless love; because he knew that for all of his and Chloe’s faults, they were incredible together.

Chloe’s snore seemed to startle her into waking up, which pulled him out of his musing. She looked at him, clear blue eyes shining with joy. “Hi.”  
“Hello,” he replied, his voice as smooth as velvet. He wished he could freeze time like his brother so that he could marvel at this moment for eternity.  
Lucifer opened his mouth to continue, but Chloe spoke before he could. “Was I snoring like a truck driver?” She asked, and upon seeing the formation of a smirk on his lips, added, “You know what? Don’t answer that ‘cause I just remembered you don’t lie.”

He pressed a kiss on her lips. “Good morning, Detective,” he teased.

Unaffected by his charms and repulsed by him “on a chemical level,” when they first met, she demanded that he address her by her proper title. And when they became friends, it stuck because he found himself respecting her. Now, it was a term of endearment, a sort of inside joke between them.

Her lips pulled into a soft smile, her hair falling into her eyes, obscuring a part of her vision. “Good morning.”

Lucifer stared down at her, mesmerized, wonder sparkling in his dark brown eyes. She raised her right hand to trace invisible lines on his face, starting from his eyebrows, down to his patrician nose, and lastly, his thin red lips, while his designer stubble tickled her finger.

“Are you cold?” He asked, if a bit quietly, his face sporting a dashing smile.

“Cold? No, why?” Chloe asked, confused.

Lucifer’s brows furrowed as he briefly looked away from her. “Odd,” he said softly. His face displayed honest bewilderment as if he could not understand why she was not cold. He looked at her and continued, his hand gesticulating softly to emphasize his point, “Given that Hell was supposed to freeze over…”

Eyes closing in amusement, Chloe snickered as understanding dawned upon her. “Right, ‘cause I said that I won’t have sex with you until Hell—yes, yes, you think you’re very funny.” 

His head lowered slowly. “Oh, I know I’m very funny…” he trailed off, pressing another kiss on her lips. Kissing her convinced him that everything was real. Kissing her anchored him. Without it, he was a drowned man, doomed to drift aimlessly in the waves until the end of time. 

“I also know you are ticklish.” Then he proceeded to place kisses on the junction between her neck and shoulder. She laughed out loud at the tickling sensation provided by the contrast of his prickly stubble against her smooth skin. 

Out of breath and happy, both were laughing while basking in each other’s presence.

Chloe shrieked, “Oh my gosh, okay, okay!” Lucifer used his hands to brace himself on the bed, effectively relieving her of his weight, allowing her to breathe more freely.  
“I am…starving,” she started, “so what do you feel like eating? Eggs? Or…pancakes? An old-fashioned?” She chuckled at her last suggestion, highly amused at the idea of Lucifer drinking for breakfast, even though she knew for years that alcohol was his staple food.

Lucifer rolled onto his back, dragging the sheets with him. “Whatever you want is dandy,” he drawled, the vowels dragged out by his English lilt. 

“Oh come on,” she said, sitting up. “You must have some preference.” 

Hair artfully tousled, Lucifer placed his right arm beneath his head, smiling. “Oh,” he muttered. 

Undeterred, Chloe straddled his hips and looked deeply into his eyes, a small smile playing across her lips. Crystal blue met dark brown. “What do you truly desire?” 

A strange ringing filled Lucifer’s ears, and his chiseled face slackened. “I...I want to have sex with you another four times. Six, actually.” 

Lucifer averted his gaze, freeing him from the trance. He did not understand what had happened. He didn’t want to come off as needy, but for some reason, when Chloe asked what he desired, he lost control. She must think he was pathetic! Why couldn’t he rein in his libido around her, oh Father! 

Chloe tapped his chest, prompting him to look at her. “Did I just mojo you?” She asked, completely dumbfounded. 

But...

 _Dear Father, did she just mojo me?_ He thought, perplexed.

Lucifer furrowed his brows. “I…don't know.” And he didn’t, Dad damn it! 

Chloe observed his countenance, from the crease on his forehead to the sudden stillness of his hands. “You’re messing with me,” she started, playfully slapping his chest. “Yeah, you’re messing with me,” she continued, nodding as if she wished to convince herself more than she did him.

“I am?” Lucifer asked, his eyes conveying puzzlement as his forced smile faltered. 

Chloe hummed.

She rolled off of Lucifer and grabbed her phone. “I’ll just order breakfast burritos...” 

Lucifer shook his head as if he meant to clear his thoughts. “Darling, if you wish to freshen up, the bathroom is that way,” he said, pointing to a passageway at the side of the room, which led to a magnificent bathroom. “You can have a bath if you want.”

In all honesty, he would have loved nothing more than loving her again. She looked delectable in his shirt, after all, but the earlier incident left him reeling. How was Chloe able to mojo him? What was his Father playing at? 

_Oh my―Dad!_

What if his mojo was like a venereal disease? What if he had unknowingly given it to those whom he had slept with? Father in Heaven, the number of people he bedded during his eight-year stay on Earth was unimaginable! In his defense, he was the Devil, after all, and promiscuity was kind of his jam. People who decided to do something worthy of damnation came to him, alright, and like the devil that he was, he indulged them in fulfilling their desires.

Lucifer inhaled sharply, his mind swirling with worry.

This could not be happening, except it is. 

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

He couldn’t have given those people some of his celestial gifts, could he? His stomach churned unpleasantly. Lucifer had always been a selfish devil, so the thought of sharing his gifts with others terrified him. His gifts always separated him from his siblings, being the Lightbringer. His gifts were what made him different from the others, as can be gathered from his rebellion. His gifts defined him, for what was he without it? Just another fallen angel is what he is, just another fallen angel, no different from the fallen ones who fathered the Nephilim. 

Maybe this was the reason why his Dad disapproved of celestials being with humans. Maybe The Almighty was, for once, justified in forbidding angels from engaging in sexual relations. Lucifer consoled himself that, at least, he wasn’t able to father a Nephilim during one of his sexcapades. Oh, he could imagine the Silver City in disarray because of his Father’s anger. He’d be lucky if God only threw him back to Hell.

Also, the thought of him as a father was laughable! The Devil, a father? Please! He’d likely drive the child to madness if he somehow didn’t hurt it first. He’d only poison his spawn, corrupt it with his darkness, and make its life miserable. He couldn’t even fix his issues, for Dad’s sake! No, he’d make a lousy father and a selfish one to boot. No, a child deserves to be loved unconditionally, and he, in his brokenness, could barely even love himself. No, he was a poison, and that would not change. He was a poison then, and he was a poison now, from when he was created until the end of time. 

Samael. 

Poison of God. 

Samael. 

Poison.

Poison.

Chloe tapped his nose lightly, pulling him out of his reverie. “Earth to Lucifer,” she said. 

Shaking his head, he answered, “Sorry, darling, I一what did you say?” 

“Silly Devil,” she began, her arms crossed while her eyebrows were raised as if daring him to contest.“I asked if you wanted to join me in the shower. I figured we could at least fulfill your desire before our breakfast arrived.”

Lucifer’s stomach clenched. Oh, he wanted to, but until he figured out the reason for Chloe’s sudden ability to mojo him, he couldn’t. Not until checking all the possible factors for the _glitch_. Even so, he couldn’t stand Chloe’s expectant look knowing that he would have to disappoint her. Again. “Detective,” he began, his voice betraying his reluctance, “I would have to decline your rather tempting offer.” 

He hated letting her down, honest. 

Her features fell for a moment, then it vanished altogether, to be replaced with a sickly sweet smile. “Rain check?” She asked, to which he nodded the affirmative. 

Having a therapist was beneficial, especially for a billion-year-old immortal who had enough pent up anger and teenage angst to last a human for at least ten thousand lifetimes. Dr. Linda was a great therapist and an even greater friend, who became one of Lucifer’s most trusted beings in all the multiverse, and he knew she would be ecstatic to know that he was applying everything he learned from their sessions to understand whatever human emotion Chloe may be feeling at the moment.

He can already hear her say, _That is progress, Lucifer, progress!_ So in this instant, he knew that Chloe might have misunderstood him. He could see it in her sudden stiffness as she gritted her teeth, so he sat up and leaned against the headboard. His eyes solemn as he pulled her towards him, no longer a devil in repose.

His hands cupped her beautiful face. “Chloe, please, I didn’t mean it like that.” He said earnestly. “You are different. You make me feel things that I thought I couldn’t.” Lucifer swallowed, his hands fidgeting on the sheets.“This,” he said, gesturing to the both of them, “is unlike anything I’ve experienced. Last night was...incredible.” He looked away from her, red blooming in his cheeks. “I didn’t know it could be like that,” he whispered, but Chloe heard him clearly as if he had shouted from the rooftop. 

Touched with his show of vulnerability, she ran her fingers in his tousled hair, tears shining in her eyes. She could not help but feel absolute love for this magnificent man―no, angel, for she had no doubt that he was one―who was cast out of paradise right into damnation, but still retained his decency after millennia of suffering in exile with nothing but screams of the damned to keep him company. This second most powerful being in the universe, God’s favorite son himself, dubbed as the Prince of Darkness, the Father of Lies, and the Master of Deceit, was inherently good. His wings were the purest white, which, she was sure, meant that he was the purest among his siblings. 

For all his charms and bravado, she knew that Lucifer was as inexperienced in love as a teenage boy. Not for the first time, Chloe wondered how God was able to throw His son out without a second thought. Her heart ached for what Lucifer had been through, and she knew that his fall scarred him in more ways than one. The scary red visage that was the King of Hell was what he had to become一was what his Father allowed him to become一and she knew that the sight of what he considered to be his monstrous side devastated him. Lucifer believed he was evil because that was what everyone thought of him, but one could not deny his innate goodness.

When Michael told her she was a miracle, she blamed Lucifer for not telling her as if informing her would somehow undo the nature of her conception. She blamed him for what God had done when she shouldn’t have. She should have known that Lucifer had no choice; that God would have put her in His son’s path regardless of the latter’s stand in the matter.

She had rejected him again, but he stayed. He stayed because he wanted to keep her safe from his nefarious twin, even though she knew her indifference cleaved his very being. Yet he hadn’t held her rejection against her, and he didn’t hesitate to forgive her. 

Everyone he knew had betrayed him, and so he thought he deserved their betrayal. 

Chloe placed a hand on his cheek. “Lucifer, I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I know this...I know what we have is different for you, and it’s just一I’m not...I don’t know.” She swiped her hands across her face, trying to hide the tears that leaked from her eyes. “I’m scared, Lucifer! I-I’m just me and you’re you, and...I can’t make my fears go away.” 

She was Plain Jane Decker and he was THE Lucifer. He was divine, beautiful, and intelligent. She was terrified that one day he’d realize that she wasn’t worth it. She was terrified of being his temporary fix. She was terrified of losing him because she loved him. 

Then it hit her.

Like a burning match dropped in a sea of dried leaves, all bright and sudden and consuming, she loved him.

Lucifer was childish, utterly insensitive, annoying, and yet...she loved him.

“But Lucifer,” she sniffed, “I love you. I love you.” Her hands shook as she clutched them towards her chest, imploring him to believe what she was saying.

“Chloe,” he croaked. “I一”

Leaning down, she pressed a kiss on his cheek, cutting him off. “You don’t have to say it back, Lucifer.” She bit her lip. “I can’t promise that it won’t happen again because I know it will, but I promise I won’t run again if I get scared.”

“We make quite the pair, don’t we?” He asked if a little choked up. 

She nodded.

“Very well then,” he cleared his throat. “It’s a beautiful day, and we’ve no use for maudlin thoughts.” 

He stood so suddenly that she stepped back from the bed in surprise. His face lost all traces of his earlier trepidation, and in its place was a smile so brilliant and infectious that she had to force herself to look away. This was the Morning Star, she realized. This was the archangel who brought light wherever he went. 

But this was also the Lightbringer who only sought His approval.

A sliver of melancholy slithered into her thoughts. If he could switch his weary countenance for a joyful one in a matter of seconds, she could imagine it was easy for him to fool others with his cutting remarks and flirtatious smiles to hide what he truly felt. 

“Lucifer,” she said, standing on the tips of her toes, her arms wrapping around his neck. “I want you to know that you don’t have to pretend with me. You don’t have to act fine when you’re not,” she murmured into his neck. He smelled amazing. He smelled of musk and something that’s uniquely him. Restraining herself from kissing him, she looked straight into his eyes and asked, “So are you okay?” 

His heart stuttered in his chest.“I’m not sure,” he breathed, “but I will be. Thank you for asking. Thank you f一just...thank you.” His faux enthusiasm melted away to reveal, once again, the real Lucifer, the Lucifer that only she knew. 

“Let me take care of you,” she added. 

The notion of being cared for made his heart quake in its foreignness. 

He’d been alive for eons, and yet she was the only one who had ever offered. For that reason alone, she was the only one he would allow. He drew their foreheads together. “Detective...Chloe, you are heaven-sent,” he marveled, his eyes roaming her face as if he could not believe she was real. “Your presence is enough of an incentive. I already feel much, much better.”

He shied away from her as he felt heat creep onto his cheeks. Chloe made to reassure him that he had nothing to worry about and that she didn’t care if he blushed. “Lucifer...” she trailed off.

“You are the only one who had ever一” His voice broke, and he was stunned to find himself crying silently. 

_Bloody hell, the Devil did not cry._

Even though emotions were outlandish to him, as it was alien to all celestial and infernal beings, he knew that what he felt during their conversation was something akin to adoration. Well, something that transcended mere adoration, he knew, but he just couldn’t name that specific feeling. 

She made him feel safe, and he hoped she felt the same with him. 

Hastily wiping the treacherous tears, he straightened up. “Off you go then, darling. You wouldn’t want to make me cry a second time now, would you?” He joked, clearly desperate to escape the emotional talk they were having not because he was scared to be seen as weak, but because he was overwhelmed. 

This astounding human, the one where God had outdone Himself in creating, loved the Devil. Will wonders never cease? He bloody well hoped not. Father knows that he needed all the luck he could get not to screw this up. 

“Yes, yes, your reputation will never recover,” she agreed, but she couldn’t waste the opportunity to tease him. “I bet Maze would never let you live this down if she found out,” Chloe said as she made her way towards his bathroom.

Lucifer sputtered, “Detective!” 

He shook his head, a fond smile playing on his lips. Oh, she would be the death of him, but he could not find it in himself to care. 

He grabbed the silk robe that was carelessly slung over the floor and put it on. Lucifer stepped out of the bedroom as he tied his robe, making his way towards the bar. He spotted the decanter filled with amber liquid, and he poured two fingers in a tumbler. Closing his eyes as he took a sip, he let the whiskey swirl in his mouth before swallowing. 

He couldn’t believe it. Chloe loved him.

He felt different. There were still some lingering traces of doubt, but the fears he had seemed irrelevant at the moment. 

His whole being, his very soul, he thought, thrummed with...excitement? He didn’t quite understand what the thrumming was, but he was certain it was good. There was an air of lightness about him that made him look as if he was glowing. 

He probably was. 

He felt...invincible. 

This must be what his Father felt. 

This must be what true power felt.

Heaven, Hell, angels, demons, armageddon, the cosmic balance, millennia of suffering一it all seemed inconsequential in this bliss. 

She chose him. Him, not Pierce, not Jed, not Douche but him! If he were an ordinary man, he might have wept with joy. But as he stood in his penthouse, holding a tumbler filled with whiskey, a drunken smile invading his lips, he thought there was nothing more human than being drunk on her. 

His heart screamed, _Chloe! Chloe! Chloe!_

The ping of the elevator brought him back to the present, though his beatific smile did not diminish in the slightest. 

Dan stepped from the twin doors, looking bedraggled. Dirt soiled his clothes, and there were bags beneath his eyes. With his tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes confirming that he had been crying, Dan stared at Lucifer, looking completely lost. 

“Daniel!” Lucifer greeted cheerfully, downing his drink, and placed his tumbler on the counter. Dan visibly winced at the chirpiness in his voice, and Lucifer’s grin widened. “My, my,” he teased, stepping towards the detective. “What happened to you, Douche? Wild night?” He snickered. 

Dan frantically raised his handgun and pointed it towards Lucifer, which halted the Devil’s movements. “Stand back!” Dan shouted, his finger cocking the gun. 

Lucifer’s brows furrowed, but he raised his hands in a gesture of peace. “Alright,” he placated. “It was only a cup of pudding, Daniel. No need for all this.” 

An awful sense of deja vu invaded Lucifer’s senses. This had happened before, except Daniel wielded the Angel of Death’s blade as he confronted the Lord of Hell. 

“Stay away from me!” Dan roared, his arms shaking as he held the gun tightly. 

“Dan?” Lucifer looked towards Chloe, her eyes trained on Daniel. She wore nothing but the fluffy white robe that was tightly knotted around her waist, while her hair was dripping wet. “What are you doing?” She asked quietly.

Dan lowered his arms, and Chloe breathed a sigh of relief.

“No...no, you don’t understand,” he snarled, aiming the gun towards Lucifer once again. “He’s not what you think he is, Chlo’.” With that, he pulled the trigger, shooting the fallen angel on his chest, right where his heart was. 

“No!” Chloe screamed, her vision blurring on the edges. Dan was a good shot. There was a reason why Malcolm had just about died in Palmetto. Her world stopped as Lucifer’s body slammed towards the bar before crumpling on the floor, a sickening thump reverberating in the penthouse as his head hit the ground. 

She dove towards him, tears streaming down her face. “Lucifer,” she whispered as she ran a finger on his face. His eyes were open; however, instead of the usual dark brown that danced with mischief, unseeing orbs greeted her. 

_No, no, no!_

_God, please, no!_

Then, as if woken by her wailing, Lucifer took a gasping breath. His mouth hung ajar as he inhaled oxygen as if he was merely drowning moments earlier. Chloe cupped his face. “You’re okay,” she sobbed. “You’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” Lucifer breathed as his hand fished the bullet from his chest. The tiny thing that could have killed him flashed as the light caught on its steely hide. 

Lucifer frowned.

He should have died because Chloe was near him. First, he lost his mojo, then now he’s become invulnerable again somehow? 

Ah, right, angelic self-actualization. 

But that still didn’t make any sense. He chose to be vulnerable with Chloe, and that did not change. 

“You’re okay,” Dan interjected, surprised that the bullet did not seem to have harmed Lucifer. 

Chloe turned towards Daniel, her eyes clouding with fury. “What the hell are you doing?!” She yelled as she snatched the gun from Dan’s grip. She placed it on the counter and strode towards Daniel, pushing him further away from Lucifer.

Dan blinked. “What am I doing?” He looked from Lucifer to Chloe then back again. “What are you doing?! He’s the Devil, and you’ve known about it all this time?” He seethed, pointing an accusing finger towards Chloe. 

Lucifer braced himself on the counter as he stood. “I’ve never hidden my _devilness_ from anyone,” he answered, livid that Daniel shot his favorite robe. He had it shipped from India, damn it! Daniel committed murder, alright一the Douche murdered his precious, precious robe. He would make sure that there would be retribution for this transgression.

Chloe queried, voice as cold as ice, “How’d you find out?” 

She was quite a sight. Her white cotton bathrobe still tightly wrapped around her frame, hair remaining unkempt, but her eyes raged a winter’s fury. 

“I saw him last night,” Dan explained, inhaling as he spoke, “with Amenadiel and Charlie.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I came back, and I saw his...his freaking scary-ass red face!” He added. 

Lucifer had enough.

The Douche had the nerve to burst in his penthouse, intent on killing him, and now he was insulting his Devil face? That was it. “Well, I’m not particularly fond of your face either, Daniel, but you don’t see me trying to kill you!” Lucifer shot back. Granted, his Devil face drove humans to madness, but Dan didn’t seem all that deranged. Well, maybe a bit. He did try to kill the Devil, after all.

Dan ignored him. “How am I the bad guy here, huh?” He asked, addressing Chloe as if he was unwilling to acknowledge Lucifer’s presence more than he had to. “I’m trying to save you. I’m tryin一I’m tryin’ to一I’m trying to save our daughter! I’m trying to save the world!” He thundered. He never looked older and more worn than he did now. 

Chloe closed her eyes and sighed.

She raised her arms and spoke gently. “Okay, Dan, I understand, I get it,” she began, her tone mimicking that of a detective negotiating with an armed suspect. “And when I first learned about,” she paused, recalling how badly she reacted towards seeing Lucifer’s Devil face, “who he is, I didn’t handle it well either, but he’s not what the world makes him out to be. He’s a good person.” 

Despite his immaturity and dislike towards children in general, Lucifer was generous and kind. He’d bought a new coffee maker for the precinct under the pretense that he didn’t want to drink the swill from the vending machine. He even rented a sloppy joe truck for the whole precinct when he was trying so hard to get his _closure_. 

He spent eons in Hell as punishment for a bout of teenage rebellion, while his life, and everything he knew, had been uprooted when he was cast out of Heaven and vilified for all eternity. Yet his inner sense of justice had never wavered, if sometimes a bit misguided, and he was all for fulfilling desires because he knew what it felt like to yearn for something that he would never be able to have. 

He was broken, but wasn’t everyone? His ripped edges might have caused him to lash out at times, but that certainly didn’t make him evil.

He’s a good _man_ , and every day he strived to be better still.

Dan scoffed, ready to disagree, but Chloe cut him off. “He is,” she affirmed, “and despite your differences, I think you know that. You know him一”

The sound of a gunshot startled both Chloe and Dan, the latter jumping in alarm. Both detectives turned towards Lucifer, who stood a few paces back. The Devil held Dan’s confiscated gun, which was pointed towards his midsection, while his robe was untied so that the bullet hit his bare flesh. 

“Hah!” Lucifer chortled, picking the bullet from the ground. “Yeah, invulnerable,” he crowed, a self-satisfied grin plastered on his face. Exasperated, Chloe plucked the gun from the amused devil, unloaded it, then placed it back on the counter.

Dan took the opportunity to head towards the elevator. “What?” He muttered, disbelief, confusion, anger, and terror warring inside him. “It’s crazy! It’s crazy! You’re all crazy!” He hissed, repeatedly pressing the close button of the lift. 

“Where are you going?” Chloe asked, concern for the Douche coloring her words. Chloe Decker was nice like that. 

“I’m not gonna shoot somebody else if that’s what you're worried about, okay, I just need to get away from him!” Dan exclaimed as the doors started to close. 

“Shit, he’s supposed to pick Trixie from her sleepover,” Chloe mumbled, staring at the elevator. “I should get to her first, drop her off at her school, and take her later to my Mom’s until he cools down.” 

Lucifer cleared his throat. “Well, I wouldn’t hold your breath,” he said, deciding not to shrug off the ruined robe. Oh, Dad, he really loved that robe! “I don’t think ‘cool’ is in Dan’s repertoire.” 

Chloe turned towards him, her eyes raking his form with genuine concern.

Of course, she was worried about him. After all, the Devil proved to be very much human when she was around. She touched the hole in his robe where the bullet had gone through. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

Lucifer covered her hand with his. “I’m more than okay,” he smiled, eyes warming at the sight of her hand on his chest. He spread his arms wide as if presenting himself in front of courtiers. Gushing, he laughed, “I’m completely invulnerable even around you!”

Chloe’s smile drooped. 

“All of a sudden?” She asked, stiffening against him. “Why now?” Was it because he already had her? Was his vulnerability a ploy to seduce her? Was she any different from the others that he had taken to his bed? No, no. Lucifer wouldn’t do that now, would he? Earlier, he said that she was different, and she knew he didn’t lie.

“Well, who cares?” Lucifer looked towards the counter. “Would you rather the bullet had killed me?”

Chloe shook her head.“No, of course not. I’m just...I’m just trying to make sense of it,” she paused, tucking her hair behind her ear. “The mojo thing earlier and now this, but no. I ju一I…” she trailed off. Yes, yes, she should be grateful that he was alive at all! 

Closing her eyes, she sighed, “You’re right. Gift horse.” 

Pulling him in, she stood on her toes and placed a quick kiss on his lips. She loved him. It didn’t matter that he was invulnerable, but what’s important was that he was with her. Warm and safe. With her. “I should go,” she whispered, looking up at him. Those gorgeous lashes should be illegal!

The eternal child that he was, Lucifer cheekily replied, “I do hope you plan to make yourself decent before you fetch the little offspring...” Chloe snorted, and Lucifer grinned. “Wouldn’t want to have the Devil sniffing after men who stared too long now, would you, Detective?” 

Chloe rolled her eyes, retreating to his bedroom. It was typical of him to start teasing her after she just about broke down from when she thought he had died, the ass.

“You’re an idiot,” she retorted, her barb missing all its intended sting. _But you’re my idiot_ , was what she left unsaid. She left him standing beside the bar near the crystal decanter, grinning like a schoolboy. She really had to fetch Trixie from Bethany’s. Her little monkey still had books to pick from the apartment. 

As she retreated towards his bedroom, she heard the elevator ping once again. “Two orders of breakfast burritos for a Chloe Decker...”

Ah, right, breakfast. 

\-----

The ride towards Trixie’s school was pleasant, and Chloe was grateful for her daughter’s incessant chatter because she couldn’t ignore her needling fear of Lucifer’s sudden invulnerability without it.

She smiled indulgently as Trixie rambled about her stay at Bethany’s, the little girl excitedly recounting her favorite parts of the movie. 

“It was awesome, Mom!” Trixie beamed, her dark eyes shining with the brilliance of an onyx. “Dracula had this hotel built specifically for monsters. There were also zombies, Mom! Zombies! It was sooo cool!”

Chloe couldn’t stop herself from chuckling. “I’m sure it was, Monkey.”

“And there was this human一Jonathan一who discovered the hotel by accident, and he was scared when he found out that the monsters in the hotel were real,” Trixie babbled, her hands clutching her bag as she continued narrating. “He was the only human in the hotel, so he didn’t fit in, Mom.” 

Chloe thought of Lucifer. 

From what little she knew of his life in Heaven, it seemed he felt as though he didn’t belong. Lucifer always talked about how his siblings didn’t understand; how they were content to be God’s obedient little soldiers, and how they didn’t desire free will. 

She imagined an archangel with curly, raven hair, brimming with passion and life, and longing for the freedom to choose. She imagined Lucifer with his wings of pure starlight, his siblings shunning him for daring to ask _Why? Why? Why?_

“He didn’t know how to be a monster, Mom. He didn’t understand their monster ways,” Trixie began, her brows furrowing as she added, “Do you think Lucifer doesn’t like it here, Mommy? He’s an angel that’s why he acts all funny, but there aren’t a lot of angels here.” 

The pre-teen’s smile dampened. 

She loved Lucifer, quirks and all, but she didn’t like it when he was sad. Eve was nice and all when she said she was the friend he needed, but Trixie didn’t like her for the Devil.  
The young Decker remained hopeful that Lucifer would officially be part of her family, and it would be so cool if she could bring her step-devil to show and tell. Maybe he could even show her classmates his red eyes for effect. 

Chloe almost pulled over when she heard her daughter say that Lucifer was an angel. Instead, she tightened her grip on the steering wheel.

“Monkey,” Chloe breathed, “how did you know that Lucifer’s an angel?” She glanced at the rearview mirror, catching her daughter’s brown eyes. 

Trixie shrugged in a way that was reminiscent of Chloe’s. “He always said he’s the Devil, and I read that the Devil is also an angel.” 

“And you believed him?” Chloe asked.

Trixie frowned at her mother. “Lucifer doesn’t lie, Mom.” Then she smirked, “And besides, he flashed his red eyes at the mean girl who bullied me on Snapchat and at the scary man at the penthouse. It was so cool, Mom!” 

Chloe was stunned. Her daughter knew, yet she wasn’t scared of Lucifer. Chloe felt shame and guilt settle in the pit of her stomach. How could she be so stupid as to trust the word of a stranger more than her best friend and the man she claimed to love? She’d almost succeeded in poisoning him as well! Chloe shook her head. No matter, she’d make it up to Lucifer. She would never leave him again. God would have to pluck her from Lucifer Himself if He wanted them separated. 

Chloe smiled at her daughter, amazed at the young lady’s easy acceptance of her devilish partner. “I have seen it, Monkey, and yes, they are cool.” 

Lucifer would flip if he heard Trixie sing his praises, and of his petrifying eyes, no less! He was certain that his other side was too monstrous to be accepted, and yet Trixie spoke of his infernal eyes as if it were normal. Her little monkey’s pure adoration of the charming consultant was sure to render him mute. 

“Are you Lucifer’s zing, Mommy?” Trixie’s soft voice cut through Chloe’s thoughts, reminding her that she wasn’t alone in the car.

_Zing? What ‘zing’?_

Chloe was eager to understand whatever Gen Z term her daughter was spewing. Last week, it was “mood” and “fire,” and now it seemed to be “zing.”  
Chloe asked, “Monkey, what do you mean by ‘zing’? What do you mean, am I Lucifer’s ‘zing’?”

Trixie, the little imp, cackled. “Mooooom! In the movie, Drac’s wife gifted their daughter with a book, and there was a poem written in it.” Chloe’s lips formed an ‘O’ as Trixie cleared her throat before reciting the said poem. 

“Two lonely bats crashed in the night,” she started as Chloe listened attentively. “They felt a zing, love at first sight.” 

Chloe almost huffed in amusement.

It wasn’t love at first sight for her and Lucifer. He was attractive and all, but he was such an ass that he constantly bugged her with innuendos and propositions. But, she concurred, his antics were what had endeared him to her, well, that and his refreshing honesty, especially after Palmetto.

“They knew right then they would be husband and wife,” Trixie chirped, happy that she still remembered the lines from the movie. “For a zing only happens once in your life,” she finished, beaming as she observed her mother.

Chloe felt her daughter’s gaze rest on the back of her seat. She was only thankful that the child couldn’t see the blush spreading across her cheeks, or both her daughter and Maze would never cease teasing her. “That was beautiful, Monkey,” Chloe said carefully. 

A mischievous smile appeared on Trixie’s face. _Coolest step-satan, here I come_. “So...are you Lucifer’s zing?” 

_I hope so_

Chloe’s breath hitched, and, for the first time since she learned the truth, she thanked Lucifer’s Dad as they finally arrived in front of Trixie’s school. Chloe turned to her daughter. “We’re here, Monkey. I’ll pick you up later, then drop you off at Nana’s, alright? Love you!” _Please don’t ask. Please don’t ask._

Trixie, observant as always, noticed her mother’s discomfort. Guess she wouldn’t get a step-devil for Christmas, but whatever, there was time yet. “Ok, Mom, see you later! Love you too!” Trixie replied as she stepped out of the car and ran towards the entrance, her backpack bouncing on her back.

Chloe breathed a sigh of relief.

She didn’t think she and Lucifer would ever get married, but what she felt for him was the ‘zing’ that could only happen once in her life.

She hoped he felt the same.

She was afraid that he would find her lacking, but it was too late. She was in too deep. With every beat of her heart, she yearned for him.

The heart wants what it wants, and for all the tribulations they faced, fate always led them back to each other. 

Fate always led Lucifer Morningstar to Chloe Jane Decker.

That had to count for something, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Would defo appreciate your feedback in the comment section!
> 
> Anywayyyy, yeah, that long-ass chapter is my official first chapter. Terribly sorry in advance because I'm going to be trying out different writing styles to find my vibe, so to speak. I've been writing too many research papers that I forgot how to write a proper story. I feel like this chapter does not invoke much imagination because it heavily relies on the thought processes of the characters, and I'm hoping to change that in the next one. Hopefully, I got Deckerstar's insecurities down in this chapter.


	3. She Had Become A Physical Necessity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The smell of her hair, the taste of her mouth, the feeling of her skin seemed to have got inside him, or into the world around him. She had become a physical necessity.” 1984, George Orwell

The Corvette’s engines revved as it accelerated, swerving while Lucifer weaved in and out of traffic expertly. He drove fast, faster than the speed limit, and the thrill of the blurring view as he sped away felt much like flying. He loved it because while humans were undoubtedly made to be masters of the land, angels were creatures of the air.

He loved the feel of the wind whipping at his face, his star lighting up the L.A. skies as the stereo blared out bad 90’s jams. That was his life now, apparently—a 90’s jam. (Because, you know, he’s larger than life.)

L.A. had always been notorious for its bad traffic, but as he drove through the freeway like a bat out of, well, hell, perhaps the old bastard upstairs decided to give him a pass for once, and he wasn’t going to complain. After all, he didn’t want to be late to the crime scene.

The earlier drama with the Douche had almost spoiled his wonderful morning, but visiting Linda had proved to be helpful, as always. Not that he talked to her about the Douche being in the know, although she might have scarred him with those automatic breast pumps.

He shuddered just by thinking of the horrible squeezing sounds, which reminded him too much of the garrote the demons liked to use in Herr Hitler’s hell loop. Who would have thought that the fuhrer was a masochist? But as disturbed as he was by the sound of the breast pumps that Linda had been using, the good doctor proved that his mojo wasn’t communicable as he had feared. Several millions of bullets dodged. 

Thank Dad for small mercies!

However, Chloe now had his mojo, which wasn’t bad per se, but...that meant he had to share, and he wasn’t good at that. The Devil is a selfish devil and all that.

He needed to learn how to share. And fast! Good thing the Devil’s a fast learner.

—

Sharing was not as easy as he had thought.

The day had started alright, he supposed, as he parked the Corvette and rushed towards the bustling crime scene. He hadn’t known where to find his Detective, but he had found her soon enough. Walking beside Ms. Lopez with her grey checkered coat, blue skinny jeans, and black leather boots, she looked utterly divine. Truly heaven-sent. Her hair was pulled into a tight bun, but unlike the ones she had worn before, her bangs were pulled to one side, framing her face.

She was speaking with Ms. Lopez, a small smile playing on her lips, which knocked the breath out of him. He did not think he would ever get used to them being an item, or whatever it was humans called it. Personally, he thought “item” was too ordinary a word to describe them. They had gone through a lot to simply be called an “item.”

Witnessing Cain’s proposal was, without a doubt, one of the most painful experiences of his immortal life. Right when he had realized he wanted her to choose him, she got engaged to the world’s first murderer. He had felt like being broken down then built back up, only to be crushed once more, but for the life of him, he could not stay away from her. He would not have been able to bear it if something had happened to her while he was out drinking, so he stuck by her like glue that just would not come off. Every moment was pure agony, but he was all smile and cheer as Daniel and he had solved the case of the missing dog.

He was good at that, he realized, pretending he was okay when all he wanted to do was cease to exist.

He smoothed a hand down his jacket and checked to see if his pocket square was perfectly folded. He looked over to where Chloe and Ms. Lopez were standing underneath the massive tree, which had branches that looked as though it were reaching for the honey-haired detective. 

He smiled.

Who—or what—wouldn’t want to be with the Detective?

He had only known her for three, almost four, years, and yet, he couldn’t even begin to fathom how he had lived for so long before meeting her. And somehow, when he thought he couldn’t care more for her, she went on and started to mean so much more to him when they got together. When she jumped on him in a desperate attempt to shield him from an explosion, really.

She had become as vital as the ichor that ran in his veins.

 _She had become a physical necessity_.

“Wait…Decker OMG! OMG!” He heard Ms. Lopez exclaim as the Detective averted her eyes, and he knew that Chloe had told the lab tech about them. Not that he was complaining as it was certainly better than when she denied seeing him to DJ Dingus.

Jed had tried his damnedest to swoop in and steal Chloe away, going so far as to manipulate Lucifer. Maybe he’d visit the DJ one of these days and punish him for his misdeed. If he hadn’t been so distracted by the crying Charlie, he wouldn’t have let Amenadiel stop him. His elder brother was wrong. He didn’t know that Jed had been manipulating him.

So used was he to honesty that he had forgotten to account for the human potential for treachery. Jed had taken advantage of his limited understanding of human emotions, and Lucifer wouldn’t let him get away with it so easily. After all, one did not double-cross the Devil and got to walk away unscathed.

He had been hurt when the Detective denied there ever being a “them,” and so he grew scared, scared for the day when Chloe decided she didn’t want him anymore. Humans were fickle beings, and it seemed like a genuine possibility at the time. It still was. So he listened to Jed’s lies, desperate for a modicum of information that he could use so as not to end up being dumped by Chloe.

He should have known better, really.

“I was so ready to have my Deckerstar dreams crushed again,” Ms. Lopez elaborated, eyes were blown wide with glee, and she could not seem to stop smiling. He reckoned she would have done a jig if they weren’t in front of their colleagues in an active crime scene.

He was almost ashamed of listening in on their conversation, but he was curious about what the Detective thought of their night together. He couldn’t pull her desires from her, which often left him grappling in the dark. The inevitable praise to his prowess was just a bonus. Besides, he wasn’t listening-listening. It wasn’t his fault that he had been gifted with angelic hearing. Perks of the job, he supposed.

“Why?” Chloe tentatively asked, brows furrowed and arms crossed on her chest.

Ms. Lopez replied without missing a beat, “Because it’s been one bummer after another between you two.” Lucifer hummed even though he knew they could not hear him. “I didn’t want to get my hopes up,” she admitted.

Chloe agreed, “Yeah, I know. I mean, it has been a long road, but…well, here we are.” And he sauntered over to his Father’s miracle and his sister’s best friend.

“Morning, Ms. Lopez! Morning, Detective,” he greeted, a dashing smile on his face. If the sun shined a little brighter, well, no one on the earthly and infernal plane had noticed.

The Detective smiled even more. “Good morning again, Lucifer,” she said softly, eyes softening as her gaze landed on him.

It was so easy to get lost in her eyes that he found himself mesmerized by the gentle blue swirls and specks of jade green.

She wasn’t faring any better, and she could not seem to take her eyes off him either. All traces of the softness that she had woken up to were gone, replaced with the charming and suave civilian consultant, with his perfectly styled hair and a three-piece suit. This was his side that she had to share with everyone else, but she felt giddy with the knowledge that she was the only one privileged to see his other, softer side.

For a moment, everything else faded away as they stared at one another, safe in their warm bubble. Lucifer and Chloe. Devil and Miracle. Celestial and mortal. A son of God and a daughter of man.

They had forgotten that Ms. Lopez, who had a look of wonder on her face, was standing in front of them.

Lucifer cleared his throat. “Sorry for the delay.” He looked back and forth from the Detective to Ms. Lopez, who still had not said a word. “Had to make a pit stop at Linda’s,” he explained.

He could see Chloe’s questioning glance, though thankfully she refrained from asking him in front of Ms. Lopez, who still had not recovered.

“So, what have we got?” He asked, expertly switching the topic to the case. “Any witnesses or suspects on who my uncanny interview skills are required if you know what I mean?”

Chloe shook her head. “Ah, I actually have no information on the victim yet.” She looked around, then addressed Ms. Lopez, who was seemingly stuck in an endless stupor. “Ella is…Ella! Is Dan here yet?”

Ella breathed deeply. “Oh, El Espinoza called in sick, I’m afraid.” Really, Daniel was the furthest thing from her mind when her OTP has so clearly sailed. Hashtag Team Deckerstar Forevs.

Lucifer cheekily replied, “Did he look in the mirror again? I told him not to do that.” He looked towards Chloe as if seeking her approval. His smile got wider when he realized she was laughing, which was a refreshing scene for him as she used to roll her eyes at his every joke. He decided that he liked her amusement much better than her elbowing him, as was her wont back when she thought him delusional.

Noticing Ella’s budding smile, he pointed towards the entrance of the house. “We should…”

“Right!” Ms. Lopez nodded, leading the way towards the house.

Aside from her brief stint as a Pecker supporter, Ella Lopez was one of the smartest, most genuine humans he had ever met. She was awfully optimistic, always offering him a hug, and she had become one of his closest friends. He will never admit this to anyone, but he saw her as a sibling. She would have made a better sister than Raziel or Ariel that was for sure.

Her knowledge of forensic whatnots, though admittedly boring, reminded him too much of Azrael’s excited blabbering eons ago, back when he was Samael and welcomed in the Silver City. It was endearing, to say the least.

The house’s interior was bedecked with blues and accents of white. Various chandeliers hung in the ceiling from different heights, all gold and yellows. In the middle of the living room, beside a big golden cello, tied to her seat with thick black rope, was the victim.

She was holding a bunch of blood-stained lilies, red tainting the pure white of the flowers, eerily similar to what had happened in the Garden of Gethsemane when Peter cut off that Roman soldier’s ear, splattering blood all over the surrounding flowers. Poor Emmanuel felt obliged to heal the injured soldier, who only sought to imprison him. Then a few days later, that same Peter denied knowing his brother, and Lucifer almost put the Fear of God in the liar. However, Judas the turncoat got the brunt of his anger, and by the end of their confrontation, the man who sold his brother for thirty silver shekels hanged himself after seeing Lucifer’s Devil face.

A thousand years ago, he had not understood why Emmanuel had been so willing to suffer for the humans. They had sold him out, denied him, welcomed him then reviled him, but Lucifer understood now. He would do anything for Chloe and the urchin. He would do anything for his friends, really. Somewhere along the way, they had managed to worm their way into his life, taking up a permanent fixture in it.

They had grown on him.

“Dianne Luna, famous soprano. Time of death: 10 pm last night,” Ms. Lopez began, then she pointed towards the small bruise in the victim’s neck. “Check out this puncture mark. My guess is that toxicology reports will confirm that she was injected with some sort of paralytic agent.”

“Is that how she died?” The Detective questioned, peering down towards the victim’s prone form.

Ms. Lopez shook her head sadly. “Worse. Much worse. Do you see this bloodstain pattern on these lilies? That’s from Dianne coughing as she was choking on her own blood. The killer inserted a knife into her throat, made two very precise cuts, slashing her vocal cords.”

The Detective leaned down. “Sounds like someone went to a lot of trouble to make a point.”

“Yes,” Lucifer agreed, “I smell an annoyed neighbor, who’s tired of her singing.” Straightening up, he asked, “Shall I go mojo them all, Detective? I should, shouldn’t I?”

“Well,” the Detective looked around, “there’s no sign of forced entry, so most likely Dianne knew her assailant.”

“Well, a jilted lover then, based on the flowers,” Lucifer guessed, pointing at the lilies that the victim held.

“Except, she was a famous opera star. I mean, look, they get flowers all the time.” Chloe said, looking towards the various vases that contain different kinds of flora. “Ella, who found the body?”

Ella pointed towards a pale, skinny-looking young man, who wore sweatpants, a jacket, and a simple shirt. “Oh, ah Norman, Dianne’s neighbor.”

“Ah, right the first time! Annoyed neighbor, it is,” Lucifer grinned, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah, apparently he found the door ajar, came across the body, and phoned it in,” Ella replied, adjusting her grip on the lens of her work camera. 

Lucifer strode towards the poorly-dressed Norman, squatting to look deeply into the thinner man’s eyes. “Tell me, Norman, what is it you desire?”

Lucifer tilted his head a bit, dark eyes heavy on the stupefied witness. “Got tired of her singing, did you? Come on, tell me. You know you want to…”

This was where it all went downhill.

Norman blinked. “What? That is a weird thing to ask, man,” he sputtered, and Lucifer jumped back.

Impossible. He couldn’t have lost his mojo now, could he? Oh, Dad.

Lucifer turned towards Chloe, frowning. “That means…Detective, I think you stole my mojo!” He said, half shocked, half angry, but not at Chloe. Never at Chloe. 

Chloe pinched her nose. “Lucifer—”

No, no, this man was just a one-off. Must be the great sex he’d had last night with the Detective, putting him off his game.

Lucifer quickly ran to the officers milling around, determined to check whether his mojo was still working, and Chloe rolled her eyes. It was times like this that she realized how stupid she had been for believing Kinley. Lucifer was the Devil, but he was still her childish, incorrigible, inappropriate, hedonistic partner, and knowing the truth about him didn’t change who he was and everything he had done for her.

Shaking her head, she started interrogating Norman, while Lucifer shuffled from one officer to another in the background.

“I couldn’t have done this,” Norman said, crossing his legs. “I spent the whole night in Northrend.”

Chloe’s hands stilled on the pad. “Where?” She asked.

“Northrend,” Norman repeated, and at Chloe’s blank expression, he continued. “In Azeroth…”

Chloe nodded, recognizing that it was some kind of place in a computer game. “Ah, yes…we’re talking video games.”

Norman smiled. “I led my guild on a 17-hour campaign last night.”

“So you were home and awake all night?” Chloe clarified although she supposed his guild members could corroborate his alibi. “Did you hear anything?”

“Did I?” Norman began. “First, the awful vocal exercises like every damn night, but then as an annoying bonus—two hours of arguing.”

Chloe slightly nodded. “What were they arguing about? And did you get any details at all? Names? Anything?”

“No. Once I realized that the noise wasn’t stopping, I cranked up my headset, so I could hear my raiding party. It’s getting so a guy couldn’t plunder the Lich King’s barrow in peace anymore.”

Chloe hummed. “Tough times, yes? So we’re going to need your game log to confirm your alibi—”

Lucifer interrupted her with a huff. “Unbelievable!”

Chloe excused herself to Norman then went towards her distressed partner. “Lucifer,” she started, buttoning her coat. “What are you doing?”

Lucifer grimaced. “Literally nothing. I’m powerless.”

She looked around them to check if someone was listening. “Did you really lose your mojo?” She asked. “How is that possible?”

Lucifer could only reply with what he theorized to be the case. “Well, when we had sex, it passed from me to you.”

Chloe scrunched up her nose. “That’s ridiculous! We were only playing around this morning. I don’t have the mojo…”

Lucifer forced a smile. “There is only one way to be sure,” he said.

He wanted her to mojo him, Chloe realized.

“Right now? No! I’m not going to mojo you here,” she stated in her no-nonsense voice.

“Try,” he badgered, unwilling to let it go so easily.

“Fine,” Chloe rolled her eyes. If she wasn’t careful, her eyes would be stuck like that, what with the number of times she had rolled her eyes in the past couple of years that she had known Lucifer.

Lucifer lowered himself so she could look him in the eye. “What do you desire?” She asked, prepared to call him out on his antics once she proved him wrong.

A strange ringing filled Lucifer’s ears, and he tried to resist, but he couldn’t. At the back of his mind, he briefly wondered whether the people he had questioned over the years felt this way. “I-I want my mojo back!” He bit out.

Chloe gasped softly. Lucifer may have been on to something, after all.

She let out a startled, “Ha!” Then cleared her throat, though she couldn’t help but smile. “Oh my god! It’s real! Cool!”

Indignation swept through Lucifer. “No, not “cool”!” Disgust dripped from his voice as he uttered the word “cool” so that it came out as “kewl.”

And there they were again. “Lucifer, we just got together, and you’re already finding things to freak out about.”

Lucifer gritted his teeth. “I’m not finding anything, Detective. All I’ve done is lose stuff.”

Chloe stared up at him. “Do you realize how long it took for us to get here?” She asked softly, careful not to offend him. “We finally have something good going on. I mean, can we please just enjoy it for a minute?”

The Devil would not deny her anything, she knew. Though she couldn’t quite understand the power she had over him, it was oddly comforting to know that whenever he was taking things too far, she could just ask him to stop and he would follow. Because of it, sometimes she forgot how powerful he was.

Lucifer breathed. “Of course,” he nodded, “of course.”

—

As they rode back to the precinct, he told himself it didn’t matter.

So what if the Detective now had his mojo? He had a myriad of other abilities that were far more impressive than his desire shtick. He was one half of the Demiurge, for Dad’s sake! He could wield the Power of Creation through his twin, and Will beings into existence. He could reshape the bloody universe if he wanted to! More than that, he was light come alive, or at least he was before the fires of Hell desecrated him.

But Dad in Heaven, he really liked having his mojo!

The bullpen smelled of sweat mingled with coffee, and it was such a stark contrast to the smell of sulfur and brimstone in Hell that he inadvertently smiled at the reminder that everything that had happened in the past few days was real. He was on earth with the Detective.

Already, Ms. Lopez led them towards the conference room, where she held a file folder that contained details regarding the victim’s profile, schedule, calendar of activities, and more.

“Okay, so according to Dianne’s calendar, at the time her neighbor heard the fight, our victim was meeting with someone named Mario Canales,” Ms. Lopez started, flipping through the pages of the file.

Chloe sat on the chair, opening her laptop. “I’m sure if it was a standing weekly appointment, Dianne knew Mario Canales well. Let me see what’s online” she said, browsing through the Google search. “Okay, so he’s got a website, and it looks like he’s a vocal coach.”

“Oh,” Ms. Lopez piped, “well if the appointment was a weekly coaching session that would explain the noise that Norman was complaining about.”

“Yeah,” Chloe agreed. “What about the argument?”

Scrolling through Dianne’s phone, Ms. Lopez replied, “Oh, okay! Ayayayay! Check out Dianne and Mario’s text chain.”

Intrigued, Lucifer leaned from his place behind Ella to look at the text messages between the victim and the suspect. A sly smile spread across his face as Ms. Lopez corrected herself. “Correction: sext chain.”

“Nothing wrong with inserting a little creativity into throat exercises,” Lucifer offered, looking at Chloe with a knowing gaze.

“That is some strong emoji game there,” Ms. Lopez added, completely oblivious to the heated glances the consultant and detective were sharing. “Although, it’s really making me crave my mom’s eggplant tacos.”

“Wait, they were having an affair?” Chloe interjected. She looked back to her computer screen, pointing at the overview of the page. “It says here that he’s married with kids.”

“Well, maybe the vocal coach was worried that Dianne would sing to his wife, so he cut her off before she could,” Lucifer pointed out.

“Alright, let’s go talk to Mario—” Chloe rose from her seat, and moved over to the other side of the table, pulling Lucifer with her. A bang followed by a loud, “Ow!” caught the group’s attention, and they turned to the entrance of the conference room, where Pete stood all the while massaging his temple.

“Pete!” Ms. Lopez cried, “Oh my gosh, are you okay?”

“I didn’t see the door,” Pete explained. He winced as Ella pulled him into the room, and nodded towards Lucifer and Chloe in greeting. “Hi! Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you at work.”

He looked at Ella, who was still slightly worrying about his collision with the glass door. “But I scored two VIP tickets to the Star Trek convention downtown. I-I have no idea if you’re into it, but it’s totally my thing, and I, uh, was wondering if you wanted to come with me?”

Ella made to reply, but Lucifer beat her into it. “Star Trek? Please, Ms. Lopez knows more about that stuff than you ever could,” he said, and Chloe couldn’t help but smile at her Devil’s protectiveness over the Latina. He looked at Pete as if the latter was an insect that could easily be crushed under his Louboutin’s. Given that he was the Devil, Pete might as well be an insect for him.

Ella then proceeded to speak Klingon, and Lucifer beamed. “See, she even speaks Chewbacca,” he crowed as if he had won a wager, and Ella rolled her eyes. Everyone knew that Chewbacca spoke Shyriiwook, not Klingon. Also, completely different fan base!

Then Pete surprised the group when he started to speak fluent Klingon.

“But Star Trek is your thing,” Lucifer frowned, looking between Ms. Lopez and Pete.

“Well yeah, but Lucifer, the 21st century is big enough for both of us,” Ella pointed out, sharing a smile with Pete.

Chloe put a hand on his arm. “See, sharing’s not that hard.”

—

The studio looked more like a club than a recording studio with its strong colors—hues of blues and reds, clashing like Lucifer once clashed with Michael. Mario Canales, who was at least a head shorter than Lucifer, stood beside the grand piano, dressed in an off-the-rack suit. Frankly, the portly man did not look like a killer at all! 

Nudging Chloe towards the suspect, he whispered, “Now, go on for the coup de grâce.” Chloe almost shivered at the roughness of his voice but instead pulled her checkered coat more tightly about her. “You’ve got this.”

“Mr. Canales, I am Detective Decker, and I need to ask you a few questions” Chloe started, walking towards the shorter man. “What do you desire?”

Mario’s lips slowly parted before he answered, “To tell you anything you want to know.”

Lucifer slid towards Chloe, smiling sharply at the vocal coach. “Very good,” he said, nodding to Chloe.

Lucifer’s eyes bore into Mario’s, and Chloe could tell that the singer was intimidated by her devilish partner. “What we want to know is why did you kill Dianne Luna?”

Mario blinked. “Wait, I-I…Dianne is dead?” He stuttered, shifting from one foot to another.

Lucifer quite literally looked down on the portly man, his imposing figure making it easy for him to loom over the shorter human. “The performance is over, Mario, we’ve seen your eggplant,” Lucifer drawled, glancing at Mario’s “eggplant” with poorly concealed disdain.

“We know you were having an affair with Dianne,” Chloe added. “Did she threaten to tell your wife?”

Mario put his hands in his suit pockets. “What? No! My marriage has been over for almost a year.”

“Well, the happy family photos on your website suggest otherwise,” Chloe replied, crossing her arms as she realized their lead might not pan out.

“I only keep those for appearance’s sake,” Mario explained.

The man was not their killer, Chloe realized, but she had to ask, “Then why did you fight with her on the night of her murder?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Lucifer interjected, gesturing towards the vocal coach. “Mr. Canales taught Dianne all his vocal tricks, and then she rose above him. The pupil leaving the master. I mean, who’d enjoy that?”

“I did,” Mario answered, bravely squaring off against the taller and, most definitely, stronger Devil. “I was so proud of Dianne, and besides, she was my best calling card. That’s why we fought because I didn’t want her to throw it all away.”

Chloe moved closer to Mario. “Why would she throw it all away?” She asked, brows furrowed.

Mario slouched as if a great weight had been placed on his back. “She was about to go public with some major accusations against an opera star. I tried to talk her out of it—”

“An opera star…” Chloe echoed. “Who?”

“You didn’t hear this from me,” Mario began, shifting on where he stood, “but Niels Schuman is a tyrant and a bully.”

Recognition sparked in Lucifer’s eyes. “Niels Schuman, the world-class baritone?” He clarified.

Mario nodded. “He’s a world-class jerk! He throws things at people. He flies to fits of rage for no reason.” he spat out.

“Dianne wanted to bring him down. I told her he would end her,” the vocal coach added.

“Sounds like he did,” Lucifer concluded.

Mario queried, “You think Nheils is behind this?”

Chloe and Lucifer could only look at each other helplessly, unable to divulge official information.

—

Agreeing to have a reconnaissance in the penthouse, Lucifer and Chloe parted ways, allowing the former to come to terms more fully with his newfound relationship balance with the latter.

Despite telling himself that he didn’t mind Chloe having his mojo, he couldn’t let it go. His mojo was a part of himself, his Father’s gift that made him distinct from his countless angelic siblings.

For eons, he did not have anything constant. His family had abandoned him, the demons he ruled over were more likely to betray him, his vacations on earth were few and far between, and his lordship over Hell had always been tenuous at best. But he could always rely on his gift. Demons, humans, lesser angels—he could compel their desires. Now he couldn’t.

Lucifer sighed.

Gulping a tumbler of whiskey, he sat on his piano bench, hands lingering a hairsbreadth away from the ivory keys, itching to play.

Though he supposed, if he truly wanted to learn how to share, he should learn from his half-brother. Emmanuel had always been kind, perhaps sickeningly so. He had encouraged people to share, though Lucifer had thought it laughable then.

In Hell, sharing meant weakness. But as he was learning from Ms. Lopez and her new beau, it seemed sharing wasn’t as horrible as he had initially thought.

Unbidden, Lucifer recalled his passionate night with Chloe, and an idea popped into his head. He stood from the bench abruptly then proceeded to strip.

He only had to have sex with Chloe again for his mojo to come back to him! How did he not think of that sooner?

He sat on the edge of his bed as naked as the day he was created and waited for Chloe.

—

As soon as he heard the elevator ping and Chloe’s heels click on his penthouse’s marble floors, he proceeded to lay on his side. His left leg was bent while his right was stretched out, and his right hand supported his frame as his left hand rested on top of his left knee.

Pasting a cutting smile on his face, he met Chloe’s rounded eyes.

The Devil wore nada.

Her mouth hung open as she gazed upon his naked splendor. He was all muscle and long limbs, she found it hard to look away. For a second, she thought of how his pose inadvertently paid homage to Michelangelo’s _The Creation of Adam_. Well, she would not be surprised if it turned out that he was the one who modeled for the artist. Looking like that, no one could argue that he inspired inspiration.

Chloe unconsciously clenched her thighs.

 _Fuck, he’s gorgeous_.

He has got an otherworldly glow around him that sometimes it seemed as though he refracted light. He could not be mistaken for anything other than divine, and Chloe could not fathom how she ever thought him human. Clearly, he was too beautiful and, dare she say it, angelic to be a mortal.

But then she remembered. He could talk, that’s why.

And as if to prove her right, Lucifer spoke, his lilting voice cutting through the silence that permeated the air. “As fun as watching you use our, but really my, mojo, I’d like it back. So, let’s have sex again. Me on top this time,” he proposed, and she saw him as she had always seen him—her caring but immature partner, who often laid waste to the precinct fridge, specifically Dan’s pudding.

Chloe coughed, trying her best not to look downward, where a certain anatomy begged to be ogled at. “Did you really think that’s going to work? As if your mojo is some sort of STD?”

Lucifer sat up, rearranging the pillows so that it covered his man—nay, devilhood. “Well, we have to try something,” he argued, almost pouting because he couldn’t get his way.

Chloe sat on the bed, watching as a frown replaced the bright smile on his face. “This is really getting to you, huh?”

Chuckling nervously, she added, “Trust me, it’s not that I don’t want to have sex with you because I really, really do. But putting this kind of agenda on it…it just sucks all the fun out of it.”

Realizing she made an accidental pun, she raised her hand, cutting off any remark he would have made. “And please don’t make a pun right now because I am a little worried that you’re having such a hard time sharing this with me…because relationships are about give and take.”

Lucifer looked at her funny. “Well, that’s easy for you to say. So far, it’s been I give and you take,” he whined, and Chloe thought she caught a glimpse of the young and willful angel that he had been.

Pushing her bangs out of her face, she replied, “I mean emotionally, Lucifer.”

“Oh…” he breathed, and she knew he had made up his mind about something. “I know exactly what you mean.”

—

Sitting beside Lucifer on Linda’s office couch, Chloe tried not to think of the things that had been done on said couch. Briefly, she wondered if she should have doused alcohol on it before sitting. Surely, something would appear under the UV light if she tested it on the couch.

Linda sat in front of them, dressed in a black long-sleeved button-down shirt with red printed flowers. She was psychoanalyzing them as she did all of her patients, Chloe realized. Chloe was sure she was sweating under Linda’s scrutiny. Linda was tribe, but Chloe couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable to be observed like how she observed those suspects they usually interrogate.

“So couples therapy? When we’ve been a couple for what? Five seconds?” Chloe scoffed, while a smug smile appeared on Lucifer’s face. He was enjoying this. “Definitely not what I meant,” she added.

How were they supposed to face their problems together when Lucifer always involved somebody else?

Linda raised her pen as she uncrossed her legs. “I see…but I’m afraid, in order for this to work, you both have to be willing to be here.”

Lucifer piped in, “She said she was happy to do this—”

Chloe raised her hands. “Oh no, I’m happy. I’m happy to be here. I’m thrilled, actually, to have someone rational,” she pointed towards Linda, “weigh in on all of this and agree that Lucifer is being ridiculous.”

Chloe crossed her legs and put her hands on her knees. Primly, she asked, “Can you please tell him it makes zero sense that I “stole” his mojo during sex?”

Linda cleared her throat. She should have known that Lucifer would not let it go that easily. “Well, actually,” she started, “I don’t think Lucifer is being that ridiculous.”

Lucifer tapped Chloe’s hand in victory, dimples showing as he smiled towards Linda. He knew there was a reason why the good doctor was his close friend and therapist!

“It’s not like we covered celestial powers in med school, but having sex with someone you truly care about requires surrendering control,” Linda continued. “Giving up control…and on an emotional level, Lucifer’s reasoning does make some amount of sense.”

“Thank you, Doctor!” Lucifer crowed. He loved to be proven right. What was it humans said? Being right is more important than knowing when to shut up? Yeah, that must be it.

“And the fact that he came to this emotionally mature insight on his own—impressive,” Linda praised, and Lucifer visibly preened. Both humans knew that if his wings were visible, the feathers would have been puffed up. “It shows a sign that he’s grown.”

Her oldest, most immature patient had truly come a long way from the hedonistic playboy that Linda first met.

But of course, he had to say something, didn’t he? And he was doing so well!

“Now, can we jump to the part where you teach the Detective how to, you know, return my mojo,” Lucifer effused, pointing to himself.

Holding the pen close to her heart, Linda muttered, “Yeah, scratch emotional maturity.”

Lucifer frowned.

“Okay, so look. Try to put yourself in Lucifer’s shoes. For instance, what if your gun and badge were taken away only to be given to Lucifer?”

Lucifer purred, “I’m liking the sound of that. Go on!” The good doctor, as always, was proving herself helpful.

Chloe shook her head. “I’m sorry, I’m not following.”

“Being a detective is a big part of your identity. It empowers you. Now, imagine losing it,” Linda advised. Lucifer and Chloe may seem like polar opposites, but they were more similar than they thought. Two souls that complemented one another. Two halves of a whole.

“Okay, Lucifer’s issues can sometimes seem…outlandish would be putting it mildly,” Linda nodded, and Lucifer shrugged as Chloe bit her lip. “But the one thing that I’ve learned is that there’s usually something buried underneath. Sometimes, deep, deep, _deep_ down, but ultimately meaningful and worth trying to understand.”

“So what do you suggest we do, Doctor?” Chloe asked, and Lucifer brightened up.

“We should go on a date, Detective!” Lucifer asserted. “We never really did manage to go out. What, with the Kinley debacle, Eve, demons, and Hell…”

Nodding, Chloe agreed, “That is a really great idea, Lucifer.”

“It’s settled then!” Lucifer simpered, pleased with himself. He stood up and addressed Chloe, “See you later then, Detective. I will be arranging the best date ever. Devil’s in the details and all that!” No helicopters and no operas. The last time he rented a helicopter to fly them to San Francisco to watch an opera, Chloe insisted on postponing their date in favor of a case.

Before he went out, Lucifer turned to face Linda. “Thank you, Doctor!”

Chloe and Linda watched in amusement as he raced out of the door to do whatever Lucifer thing he had to do to prepare for their date. 

“No case?” Linda asked.

Chloe looked towards her therapist friend. “Oh, there is! There is…we’re just waiting for confirmation of the suspect’s whereabouts, you know how it is.” Linda didn’t. “Gosh, look at the time! I have to go—got to pick Trixie up from school. Bye, Linda! Thank you!”

Yes, Linda decided, they were more alike than they realized.

—

After dropping off Trixie at her mom’s, Chloe decided to stop by her apartment to find something to wear for her and Lucifer’s date night. She didn’t know what was taking cyber so long to verify Niels Schuman’s location, but it was a welcome blessing as she did not have something to wear yet for her first official date with Lucifer.

As Lucifer mentioned Kinley earlier, guilt swept through her. Hearing him so casually mention the fanatic, who had almost succeeded in tearing them apart by sending Lucifer to Hell permanently, should have relieved her, but it didn’t.

He had forgiven her, yet it stung to be reminded of her betrayal. She was the reason why their first date had been derailed, well, sort of. 

She was forever grateful to Bell Biv Devoe’s “Poison” for having a snappy intro, which had startled her enough to spill the wine and prevented her from emptying the vial in Lucifer’s drink.

Rummaging through her wardrobe, she pulled out a simple blue dress, which her mother said brought out the color of her eyes. She hoped to find a pair of shoes to partner with the dress, but if worse comes to worst, she’d just wear a pair of her sensible boots to go with it. Hopefully, Lucifer wouldn’t mind. 

Chloe’s phone rang loudly in the silent apartment, and when she saw that Ella sent her a message verifying Schuman’s location, she dialed Lucifer’s number. Assuming that he would answer immediately, she was surprised when the call went straight to his voicemail. 

“What do you desire?” His voice was smooth as he crooned in the pre-recorded message. 

Chloe rolled her eyes.“Lucifer, Ella just texted me Niels Schuman’s current location. Apparently, he’s in a shoot fo—” 

She was interrupted when someone forcefully shoved a cloth in her face while locking her in a solid embrace. Her assailant dragged her out of her bedroom, down the apartment’s stairs. Although she fought hard, using all of her strength to deliver well-placed hits, it was for naught. It was like hitting a brick wall. 

_Lucifer!_

_Lucifer!_

_Lucifer, help me!_

As she struggled to breathe through the foul-smelling cloth, she thought of how distraught her daughter and Lucifer would be. 

Pity, she used the wrong name. If she had called to him with his God-given name, he would have heard her.

But would it really have made any difference? 

After all, this moment had been preordained long before God molded Adam from clay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ughhh, so sorry for the delay! We've experienced three consecutive typhoons here in the Philippines, and the internet connection's been really bad.


	4. Oh, Detective, Detective. Where Art Thou, Detective?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “O Romeo, Romeo. Where art thou, Romeo?” Romeo and Juliet, William Shakespeare

A year ago, Lucifer had told Amenadiel that if he didn’t know what to do, he should ask the question, “WWLD? What would Lucifer do?” Now, Lucifer didn’t know what to do, and he couldn’t do as he always did. After all, he was a monogamous devil now.

One would think that the King of Hell knew how to romance a lady as seduction was, after all, in his paygrade. But in all his immortal life, he hadn’t had to work hard for something. It was the humans who came onto him, and not the other way around.

He had no true experience in setting up a date.

His brief relationship with Eve had been filled with sex both with her and others that he hadn’t felt like he was in a relationship at all!

Ms. Lopez seemed to think that the Detective would have loved the helicopter ride and opera, but he had been trying so hard then to prove to her that he was good, and so he had forgotten that Chloe preferred a simpler, more special date.

Time was an absolute blur after he walked out of Linda’s office, spent on adding and crossing out items on his list. The whiteboard he had, which was previously acquired for getting back at Daniel, was filled with ideas on what activities Chloe would deem acceptable on a first date. Netflix and Chill, star-gazing, going to the carnival (they weren’t children, he knew, but he wouldn’t let go of the chance to show off to Chloe by winning stuffed animals for her), and offspring-rearing—no, he crossed that one out. Though the little urchin was likable, more tolerable than other little humans, she had a knack for attaching herself to his person.

Father only knew what the spawn saw in him.

With classical music playing in the background, Lucifer stood to admire his handiwork. An encircled drawing of a female stick figure occupied the center of the board with various texts that stemmed from it.

Lucifer was good at a lot of things. He sculpted some parts of the universe for his Father, and while he was good at making stars and using the Will to, well, will things into being, he could admit that he couldn’t draw as nicely as some of his other siblings.

He grimaced. His illustration of Chloe could have been drawn better, but what’s important was that he now had an idea of where to take her.

She wasn’t a picky human, so he knew she would appreciate whatever he prepared for her. After spending a few millennia in Hell, Lucifer understood the appeal of simplicity; that it’s not so much as the setting, but the company that made something worth remembering.

It was a testament to the fallen angel’s growth, really.

The beach held both good and bad feelings for both of them, but he believed it was time to eliminate all the remnants of the bad. They were incredible, and she said so herself. He wouldn’t let the past to loom threateningly over his future with Chloe. It was high time she knew how joyful she made him, his slight unhappiness over the transferring of his mojo aside. And it wasn’t like he was going to pull another Vegas AWOL and marry an exotic dancer. No, he was hers, and hopefully, she was his. No more going backward.

He wasn’t going to let his Dad win.

He had died for, gone to Hell for her, and he would do it all again and again and again if it meant she would be safe.

He sat on his Italian leather couch, sipping amber liquid from his tumbler. Reaching for the remote, he switched off the music, which halted the loud crescendo that swarmed the penthouse. As his gaze swept over the small table beside him, he saw his phone’s dimming screen, signifying that he received some sort of message minutes ago, which he hadn’t noticed.

Setting his tumbler on the table, he checked to view the message. It wasn’t a message-message. It was a voicemail. From Chloe. As he played the voicemail, he wondered if they’d had yet another break in the case, which would mean that their date would have to be rescheduled. Again.

Looking mournfully at his list, he only half-listened as her voice filtered into the air, telling him that Ms. Lopez texted her their suspect’s address. Assuming that she was going to postpone their date, he leaned over to reach for his drink, but he stilled as she was cut off mid-explanation.

He had been too overcome with worry that for a moment, his body froze like one of the Grecian sculptures during the Hellenistic period and he could not think logically. He heard her struggle before he stood and ran to the open balcony, unfurling his great white wings as he flew towards her apartment, all the while praying to his Father that she be alright and promising to make Heaven a second Hell if He hurt her in any way.

—

In his haste, he had not bothered to mute his strength, so as he pushed her apartment’s door, the whole doorframe came undone. Shrugging his wings away, he stepped into her ruined apartment. Shelves, vases, picture frames, and some of her other furniture were either turned over, dented, or otherwise destroyed.

He was too late.

His greatest fear had been realized. She had been taken, and possibly by the same lunatic who had been killing all those women. And as horror dawned on him, his insides screaming, the hellfire in him demanding to be unleashed, a terrible ache settled in his heart.

Would he be always left wanting?

Was he cursed to want the things that he couldn’t have?

However much he wanted to ignore it, the answer was as clear as the waters that ran in the Silver City’s great falls. God had forbidden the Devil from having a happy ending. And if so sayeth the Lord, then so it would be done.

But he was not going to give up.

Trembling, both with fury and fear, he called Ms. Lopez, informing her of Chloe’s kidnapping.

As he ended the call, his hands grazing the framed photo of him and Chloe with the child after one of their game nights, he could not help but think of what he should tell the spawn and Penelope. How could he possibly break this terrible news to the urchin and her grandmother when he himself could not recover from the shock of the situation?

But he had no choice as Daniel was having a meltdown over being in the know, and Chloe was in need of rescuing.

 _Father, if I find out that You are, in any way, involved in this, I promise I will raise Hell on Creation and raze the universe to the ground, then you can kiss your throne goodbye,_ He thought vindictively. _I will find a way to bring the flaming sword back, this I promise You, and You know that I am a devil of my word._

“Lucifer!” Ms. Lopez called as she dashed inside the apartment. Her mouth hung open as she took in the mess. Chloe was one of her best friends, and the fact that she had been kidnapped just as Ella had been celebrating the sailing of her ship and getting together with two of her closest friends was disheartening, to say the least. “Wha—”

Lucifer cut her off, “Ms. Lopez, are you done surveying the scene? Have you found anything, perhaps something that we can use to locate the Detective?”

Ella shook her head sadly. “The only thing I am sure of is that there are signs of forced entry and that Chloe fought hard to escape.”

“What about fingerprints? Or…or a lock of hair? Anything that could point us towards the little deviant’s lair,” Lucifer growled, and his eyes almost burned with hellfire. Did nobody ever tell these pesky humans that Hell hath no fury like the Devil wronged?

Ella took a slight step back as she heard his animalistic growl. In a way, she could understand what he was feeling, and if she herself felt sadness and anger burning through her soul, she could only imagine the extent of what Lucifer, who she was sure was Chloe’s soulmate, was going through.

She took his fury in stride and calmly replied, “We will find her and the person who did this, Lucifer, even if I have to ask all of my illegal contacts to speed up the process.”

Lucifer nodded. “Thank you, Ms. Lopez, but do you think the killer did this? I mean, he must have known that the Detective was onto him.” He paced furiously, and Ella was concerned that he would wear the floorboards. “What about the opera singer? Niels Schuman, was it? He was a suspect, wasn’t he?”

Ella sighed. “No, Lucifer. Niels Schuman couldn’t have done this. I texted Chloe a little earlier, possibly a few minutes before she was taken, and the opera star was in a shoot.” Niels was on the other side of town, much too far away to abduct Chloe, considering the traffic that plagued L.A. However, they still couldn’t discount him from being the killer as there was no clue that tied Chloe’s kidnapping with the other murders. Ella just hoped that they could find her friend before she turned up dead.

“I should have been with her! The Detective said we should focus on the case, and I just couldn’t—I-I should have been here!” He exclaimed, and if he were human, he would have cried. “I should have been here to protect her!”

Ella looked at him blankly. “You should have,” she agreed, only now understanding the gravity of what Lucifer was saying. “Yes, you should have! You should have been here! You should have!” Ella cried, hitting Lucifer with her fists, though it felt like she was hitting solid metal.

Lucifer pulled her to him, hugging her close to his chest as he cradled her head in his hand. “Ms. Lopez, Ms. Lopez,” he whispered, stroking her back. “We can’t afford to lose our heads now. The Detective needs our help.”

He looked down on her, and she nodded. “Yes, yes. For Chloe,” she croaked, wiping tears from her eyes.

“For Chloe,” he echoed, straightening his suit jacket.

An officer rushed in, sweat dripping from his brows. “There’s been another body,” he announced, and the units fell silent as the same thought that ran in Lucifer and Ella’s minds ran in theirs.

The next one could be Chloe.

Some of their colleagues crossed themselves as they offered a prayer, and Lucifer rolled his eyes. When would everyone realize that his Father did bloody not care?

“Don’t worry, Lucifer, I’m sure the Big Guy has a plan. We’ll find her,” Ella offered, trying to comfort the civilian consultant, who might as well be one of her brothers.

Lucifer fumed. “I know He has a plan! I just don’t understand why you humans think it’s a good one!”

—

As they drove towards the new crime scene, the Corvette going well above the speed limit, the wind roared in Lucifer’s ears as Ella looked worriedly over to his white knuckles that clutched the wheel tightly, which creaked under pressure. Their back-up trailed closely behind them.

His earlier woes about losing his mojo seemed petty when Chloe’s life was in danger. He had let himself be ruled with his selfishness and dove straight into regaining his gift back, not thinking of the consequences of leaving her alone during an active investigation of a homicide. They were partners. He should have had her back.

Would he ever learn?

This had happened before. Lucifer had been so absorbed with antagonizing God and whatever He had planned, convinced that his Dad was using his wings to manipulate him, allowing Pierce to easily swoop in, killing Charlotte and endangering Chloe’s life.

If something happened to her this time, he would never forgive himself. He would rip the bastard responsible apart, but he would never forgive himself.

How could he have been unhappy with her having his mojo? But he supposed that was the thing about unhappiness—something worse had to happen for one to realize that what one had was happiness all along.

How could he find her? The “detective-ing” stunt that he pulled in Hell with Mr. Said-Out-Bitch was just to scratch his itch to solve a case, to feel like he was still topside with her. But even with whatever detecting he had managed to do, he was no detective, and Ms. Lopez was a lab tech.

Lucifer felt the tears in his eyes well, but he knew they would not fall.

The Corvette skidded to a halt in front of an old-looking house, all glinting black edges and slick curves. Lucifer jumped out of his seat, not bothering with taking the keys from the ignition, and ran straight into the house. His breathing hitched as he took note of the front door that was left ajar, and steeled his countenance. Until he saw her body, then she was still alive.

The darkness that stretched ahead of both him and Ms. Lopez would surely affect the latter’s sight, but he was the Prince of Darkness and the Bringer of Light. He was used to the dark. He learned to thrive in it.

The halls of Hell were blurry, where the light itself was a form of chicanery, and the Pit that housed the former lords of the Underworld, who had once lived in the depths of the Great Abyss, was blacker than the blackest black. And just beyond the lake of fire and sulfur was the Forest of Torment, where anyone who entered that was unused to its ways was easily deceived, doomed to make out what they truly feared in the encompassing darkness, descended upon by unforgiving harpies.

It was why his throne had been built so high up in the air so that he was just out of light’s reach, and demonic assassins would have to climb the steep foundations before they got to him. The columns at the base of his throne were also unforgiving, treacherous as all things in Hell were, and the bolder demons mostly fell to their death, eliminating the threats on his life. Besides, he was closer to his stars that way (though he was still in a different plane of existence, so they remained invisible). 

Aside from the stifling darkness, a pungent smell of rot emanated from within the house. Even though it had nothing on the smell of sulfur, brimstone, and rotting flesh in Hell, Lucifer still wrinkled his nose in disgust. At the corner of his eye, he saw Ms. Lopez cover her nose and mouth before keeling over, fighting her nausea. He gestured for her to follow him as he bravely crossed the threshold.

Floorboards creaked as Lucifer and Ms. Lopez crept deeper into the house, venturing into the narrow hallway while listening for any sign that pointed towards the presence of another.

Ella pulled Lucifer’s arm, which confused the King of Hell. He raised an eyebrow at her, silently asking the lab tech to explain herself. He did not like being manhandled like a little bitch.

“Careful on the suit, Ms. Lopez!” He shout-whispered. “I’ll have you know, this is Prada!” If the situation had not been so dire, he would have whined more, but he remembered Chloe’s muffled cries as her assailant dragged her kicking and screaming. If not for Ms. Lopez, his Devil face would have shown.

The shadows bent to his Will as they felt his silent fury. Raw power rolled off of him in waves, but Ms. Lopez’s inferior human senses had ultimately failed to notice.

“Lucifer, I think we should wait for back-up,” she started, looking around the surrounding darkness, anxiously fiddling with her jacket. “Come on, please! You’re just an actor!” Lucifer ignored her. After all, he was the Devil. He was immortal. Invulnerable. No human nor man-made weapon could hurt him, and what should have relieved him only brought him sadness.

Ever since he discovered that Chloe made him vulnerable, all he ever wanted was to regain his invulnerability, but now that she was gone, the distraction provided by the pain of mortal wounds would have been highly appreciated. Though he had become invulnerable once more even in her presence, he only had to look beside him to remind him that she was real, but he did not have that luxury now. She was gone, and it was all his fault.

That slight change in their dynamic had been the catalyst to what was currently happening.

They stopped in front of a closed door, where the smell seemed to come from. Lucifer only had to put his hand on the knob before it burst open, displaying several dead animals. That must have been where the smell came from. However, the officer said there was another body, and Lucifer was sure that the animal carcasses were not it.

At the end of the hallway, where darkness was more potent, a thin ray of grey provided a stark contrast to the dominating inky black, leading Lucifer towards an adjacent room. There was no door, and he could make out a form sitting on a chair, deathly still. His heart dropped. That hair, which was tied up on a bun, was unmistakable.

He gulped audibly. “Ms. Lopez,” he began, and he knew that as he spoke, he had not succeeded in keeping the melancholy from seeping into his voice. “Could you please direct your phone’s flashlight in front of me?”

Ms. Lopez heard the tremor in his voice, and she knew that whatever he had found had affected him deeply. It meant that whatever was in front of him was related to Chloe. Shaking, she flashed the light where he had instructed, gasping at the sight before her.

“Detective,” Lucifer whispered, if a bit choked up, walking towards the unmoving figure as Ms. Lopez trailed behind him. Ms. Lopez’s hand shook harder as they neared the figure, tears falling from her eyes. In the background, they could hear the units arriving, securing the scene, but they did not pay attention. Both the club owner and the Latina woman’s eyes focused on the body as they drew nearer, ignoring the fetid smell of the other room.

Blood rushed in Lucifer’s ears, and red briefly tainted his vision. Whoever had done this would pay with their life. And when he was done with punishing the one responsible on earth, he would make sure that the killer would be suffering in Hell for eternity with no hope for a reprieve.

Then the tears started to fall. He’d just had her. Was he supposed to lose her that quickly? Was his Father truly so cruel as to give him a taste of true heaven, only to take it all back in the next instant? 

He had lived eons before her, and he would live millennia after her, but he could not imagine living this lifetime without her.

Chloe was his anchor.

Chloe was heaven.

Chloe was home.

She was his everything, his strength, his weakness, and everything in between, like the slow burn of whiskey trickling down his throat, the beautifully haunting melody of a piano, and the sharp sting of a hell-forged blade.

He reached out towards the chair, slowly rotating it so both he and Ms. Lopez could see her properly.

It was not Chloe.

For a moment, Ms. Lopez and he had thought that it was really Chloe. For a moment, he pondered on what he should tell the child and dear Penelope. He thought he would never get to see her again. Lucifer let out a shaky breath as he realized how close he had come from losing her, and even now he could lose her, still.

Ms. Lopez all but collapsed on the floor, almost dropping her phone as the adrenaline faded from her system. “It’s not Chloe,” she sobbed, clutching her heart. “It’s not Chloe. Thank God!” And Lucifer agreed. His Dad was not a complete bastard, after all.

Lucifer’s body sagged in relief. “Which means she’s still out there.” But the slight relief he felt had gone quickly as another thought occurred to him. “She’s still in the hands of that bloody bastard!” He snarled.

—

Units milled around the house as Lucifer observed Ms. Lopez take photos of the victim. Like Dianne, the victim was holding a bouquet of lilies stained with blood. Her hands were tied up and blood dribbled down her chin.

“This scene’s a carbon copy of Dianne’s,” Lucifer said morosely.

“Yeah, so is the body” Ms. Lopez agreed, slinging the strap of her camera on her shoulder. “Same injection mark, same binding technique, the same cause of death. We’re dealing with a serial killer. The flowers that we thought were Dianne’s…I mean this is his signature.”

Lucifer nodded contemplatively. “Niels Schuman couldn’t have done this. He was too far away. Besides, I don’t think we could connect him to this poor lady.”

“Yes, you’re right, but we still have to verify his alibi,” Ms. Lopez responded. She brushed a lock of hair from her face and sighed. “I should have known. I should have known. The first crime scene was so clean—it was too clean! I-I just…it was so meticulously staged. Perhaps…” Perhaps if she had identified that they were looking for a serial killer, Chloe would have been more careful, more alert, was what left unsaid.

Lucifer glanced at the lab tech. “It wasn’t your fault, Ms. Lopez. We aren’t even sure if this is connected to the Detective’s disappearance. Do you suppose the killer knew that the case had been handed to the Detective, and he sought to silence her?” And if that were true, then it meant that the killer had connections in the LAPD. Lucifer would not put it past the LAPD to have hired dirty cops. After all, they had hired Cain, who was also the leader of a crime syndicate. 

Lucifer sighed. Dad knew he wasn’t good at comforting people. “Don’t beat yourself up, Ms. Lopez. Who knows, maybe he made a mistake this time.”

Ms. Lopez perked up, turning to grab a packet that contained…glitters? “Yeah. I thought he had too when I found this on her clothes, but dead end. Glitters are just an occupational hazard for Maddison.”

Lucifer tilted his head. “Oh, she was a stripper?” He asked, and once that would have made the case more interesting for him, but now he just wanted to find whoever had done all this to know once and for all if the killer had taken Chloe.

Ms. Lopez shook her head. “No, she was an elementary school teacher.” She looked sadly at the victim, putting the packet of glitter back on the counter with her other equipment. “All the killer left behind was stuff that he wanted us to find.” The dead animals, which had exuded such an unpleasant smell that rendered a couple of joggers curious enough to search the house, were proof of that.

However, Ms. Lopez did have an ace on her sleeve. “But white stargazer lilies are pretty rare, so we can call local retailers, have them let us know of any sales during the last 24 hours. We’ll build a profile. This killer’s M.O. is extremely unique…slashing vocal cords, why would anybody do that?” she said, shaking her head in disgust over human depravation. Because that’s what it was—a depravation.

Lucifer crouched in front of the victim, muttering, “He wants to take away their power.” This killer had infringed on his victims’ free will, and Lucifer could not let him go unpunished for it. This killer’s days were numbered. He would make sure to let the vile human feel what it was like to be powerless. That was a promise, and everyone knew that the Devil never reneged on his promises. After all, his word was his bond.

A sinister smile spread on Lucifer’s face.

Let the hunt begin.

—

After visiting about eight shops, their lead had brought them to a quaint little flower shop in downtown L.A. owned by Jovita Dela Cruz, a Filipino woman who had migrated to the United States of America a few years earlier to live with her daughter and grandson.

Lucifer looked towards the marigolds on display, which reminded him of Chloe’s passion for her job—bright and whole and consuming. “Second to the last shop, Ms. Lopez. Fingers crossed.”

Pulling out the list from her pocket, Ms. Lopez checked the name of the person who placed the call. “Uh, excuse me, Danilo?” She inquired, prompting the young man from behind the counter to look up. “I’m Ella Lopez from the LAPD. You called about a bouquet of lilies you sold yesterday?”

Danilo was arranging flowers of different colors on the counter. He wore an apron over his moss green polo shirt, and Lucifer bet he wore black trousers to complete the ensemble. “Yeah,” he nodded. “I placed the call, but it was Grandma who sold them,” he said, glancing towards his grandmother.

Ella smiled as she hastily folded the paper and slipped it into her pocket. “Great!” She beamed. “Can we speak to her?”

Danilo leaned towards her as if he was going to tell her a secret. “She doesn’t really speak English,” he whispered, still holding some of the flowers that he had been trimming and arranging.

“Oh, that’s not a problem. I speak every language,” Lucifer interjected, pulling his hands out of his pocket. “Nagsasalita ba siya ng Tagalog?”

“Oo, nagsasalita siya ng Tagalog,” the young florist replied without missing a beat. “But fair warning: she doesn’t really like cops.”

Lucifer looked at the old lady who slammed the cutter when she realized they had been talking about her. He could understand her dislike of cops as some boys in blue really were racist jerks.

“She’s pretty mad that I called you guys,” Danilo continued, wincing as he thought of the rebuke he had gotten from his grandmother.

Lucifer waved him off. “Also not a problem because I am not a cop,” he reassured the younger man. 

Straightening his suit jacket, he put on his most charming smile and strode towards the grumpy lady. “Kumusta ka, Madam?” He greeted, nodding respectfully at the woman. Lucifer had half a mind to take her hand in his and raise it towards his forehead as he had seen Ferdinand Marcos greet his elders in his hell loop, but that would be equal to bowing, and the Devil never bowed to anyone. Not even God Himself. 

“Mabuti. Kayo ba ang mga pulis?” she asked, looking up at him warily.

Lucifer shook his head. “Hindi ako pulis. Ang pangalan ko ay Lucifer Morningstar, at isa akong sibilyang taga konsulta para sa LAPD.” She had not even batted an eyelash at the mention of his name. This woman was tough.

The lady offered her hand to him, which he shook. “Ako naman ay si Jovita.”

Lucifer’s brows furrowed. “Naaalala niyo ba kung sino ang bumili ng lilies kahapon? Maaari niyo bang ilarawan ang itsura ng bumili?”

Jovita nodded. “Naaalala ko na may bumili ng mga lilies kahapon, ngunit hindi ko masyadong matandaan ang itsura ng bumili…”

Ms. Lopez stared after him, shaking her head at his antics with a smile on her face. Did he really need to turn on the charm like that? Ella didn’t think so. She looked around the little shop, waiting for Lucifer to do his thing when she spotted Danilo tying a golden ribbon around a bunch of daffodils.

“Lucifer!” She called, waving the tall consultant over. “Do you remember the gold glitter that I found on the crime scene?”

Lucifer hummed. “Look at the ribbon,” Ms. Lopez said, stepping aside so he could see the ribbon that Danilo was using. “The person who bout the lilies from them has to be our killer.”

“Well, the lilies were bought by a middle-aged man. Unfortunately, he paid with cash. But my new friend Jovita,” he said, waving at Danilo’s grandmother, “remembers the time he came in, and she saw him leave in an Uber.”

Ms. Lopez pulled out her phone. “Uber! Great! We can track his ride then!”

Lucifer turned and walked out of the shop, but Ms. Lopez caught up to him. “Lucifer, wait! I can’t go with you…Pete, I promised him I would go with him to the convention, remember?”

Lucifer sighed. “Ms. Lopez, you don’t have to go with me. I can handle it myself. Besides, I don’t think cyber already found his address.”

“But don’t go alone, Lucifer, please! It’s too dangerous,” she said as she walked away from him, leaving him in front of the shop. Lucifer didn’t dare say anything. If he said anything, he would have had to follow through with it, and he couldn’t wait for back-up if push came to shove.

—

Les Klumpsky lived in Unit 507 of an abominable building. Honestly, the wallpaper was horrid! As Lucifer stepped out of the elevator, a child riding a tricycle rounded the corner. It was like he walked on the set of The Shining. “Well, that bodes well,” he murmured.

The hallway floors were carpeted, but it didn’t make the place look better. If anything, it reminded Lucifer of being in a pedophile’s hell loop. Stopping in front of a red door with the numbers 507, Lucifer had not needed to Will the locks to unlock as it was open. As he entered the unit, a wall with newspaper pages taped on it greeted him. There was no one in the unit, he realized, taking in the darkness that shrouded the living room.

In the middle of the room was a cheap plastic table with two monoblock chairs on either end. On top of the table were various pictures, taken from a distance, of a woman who he assumed was the Klumpsky’s next victim, and a box of disposable syringes. He picked up the receipt from Jovita’s and saw that the purchase had only been a few hours ago.

He was only a little sorry to disturb Ms. Lopez’s date as he dialed her phone number. They could still save this woman.

“We’re here! We’re here!” Ms. Lopez called, breathing heavily from running. “We came straight from the convention.” Yes, he got that from the costumes both Pete and Ms. Lopez were still wearing.

Pete took off the rubber ears, dropping off his sling bag on the floor. “If there’s anything I could do to help—”

Lucifer cut him off, holding the picture of a woman he found on the table. “I think she might be his next victim.”

Ms. Lopez swallowed, taking the picture from Lucifer. “We have to figure out where she lives. Let’s scour the place for any clue that we can find. Lucifer, you can continue searching here, while Pete and I will search the other rooms.”

Ms. Lopez stared at the wall with newspaper pages taped on it, realizing that the killer must have used the papers to hide a door. She pushed the door open, which led to a red room. Photo films hung on the ceiling like vines in a forest. She called Pete to help her search, using her phone’s light to view the pictures on the film. “I’m so sorry for the weirdest, darkest date ever…”

Pete replied, “Are you kidding me? We’re trying to save a life here. This is—”

Ella exclaimed. “Oh, wait for a second, I think I found something.” She used her phone’s light to see the film more clearly. “Lucifer!”

Lucifer came bounding into the room just as Ms. Lopez finished loading the film in the viewer. “I think she is his next victim. Look at the wallpaper and the carpet…”  
Lucifer made the connection. “She lives in this apartment building.”

Ms. Lopez nodded, pointing at the sign on the picture. “On the ninth floor.”

Lucifer rushed out of the Klumpsky’s apartment, followed by Pete and Ms. Lopez. The three ran up the stairs, not waiting for the elevator as time was of the essence. Lucifer pointed towards the right hallway. “I’ll take this way.”

Lucifer had been contemplating which red door he should open first when he heard a loud creaking. That door was left open. Striding towards it, he pushed it open. Like Klumpsky’s unit, there was no light. He crept deeper into the unit, bravely scanning the room for any sign of either Klumpsky or the victim when he felt someone move behind him. Before he could face the mystery person, he felt a stab on his neck. But he was invulnerable, and the needle broke upon touching his skin.

“W-What?” Klumpsky stuttered as he felt the needle break.

“You must be the infamous Les Klumpsky,” Lucifer drawled, eyes turning an unnatural scarlet.

Klumpsky stumbled, clutching the useless syringe. “W-What are you? Who are you?” He cried, almost choking on his fear.

Lucifer smiled manically. He who had killed those innocent women had been rendered powerless. He who had liked to terrorize others to feel powerful was now a weeping, bumbling mess in the face of Lucifer’s rage. “I am what I am.” He enjoyed the slight nod towards his Father’s, “I AM WHO I AM.”

Lucifer crouched in front of the deranged man. “Now, I’m going to ask you real nice. Where is the Detective?”

“D-Detective? What detective?” Klumpsky wept, his whole body trembling in fear at this powerful being. He did not know who this man was, but his primal instincts told him to run. All the alarm bells were ringing in his head, recognizing this creature in front of him as someone not to be trifled with, as other.

Lucifer lost his cool, and he grabbed the man on his neck, pulling him up. “Where is the Detective?!” He roared, and the man flinched as he choked on Lucifer’s tight grip.

“Please, I don’t know any detectives!” He pleaded, clawing at Lucifer’s hands, but just like the syringe, it proved useless. His legs flailed as he tried to find something to step on and ease the pressure on his neck.

Lucifer dropped Klumpsky abruptly, and the man hit the floor with a loud thud. “You’re telling the truth,” Lucifer breathed, clenching his jaw. Klumpsky tried to crawl away from Lucifer and received a nasty kick on his midsection, which drew him away from the enraged Devil, knocking him out.

Ms. Lopez and Pete found him standing over Klumpsky’s prone form, smoking a cigarette, the tied-up woman stirring as the drug wore off. By the stormy look on Lucifer’s face, Ms. Lopez guessed that Klumpsky had no idea where Chloe was. She could only hope that they could keep Lucifer from rampaging in L.A., though she knew it would be hard as Chloe was the only one who could calm him.

She did not know whether to be relieved that Chloe’s kidnapping had nothing to do with the case or to be worried because their only chance of finding her had slipped away like a fish slipping out of a dragnet. Before, they had a possible M.O., but now? Nada. She looked at Lucifer one last time before allowing an officer to lead her away and take her statement.

—

As soon as the officers arrived, Lucifer slipped away from the scene, intent on going back to Lux and calling Amenadiel. If Klumpsky had not kidnapped Chloe, then who did? Was it his Dad? And how would he able to find her without any clue? He was so stupid! He should have taught her how to pray to him, but no, he had tried so hard to disassociate with Samael that he selfishly avoided teaching her how to pray. If she knew she only had to pray and he would come for her, then they would not have been in this mess. He would have found her within minutes, if not seconds.

If his Dad had been the culprit, He would have sent one of the Host to retrieve her or snap his fingers and teleport Chloe to His study in the Silver City. But Lucifer hadn’t felt any new sibling entering this particular plane of existence, and the struggle that happened in Chloe’s apartment didn’t fit his Dad’s work either. If his Dad had come down to earth Himself, Lucifer would have felt it. Besides, if God personally kidnapped Chloe, then she would not have been able to fight back. His Father was omnipotent.

Lucifer rolled his neck. What would Emmanuel do? Pray to Father for help, probably. He had thought of bringing a hellhound topside, but he didn’t know if it would upset the barrier that God had made so that no demon could cross the Gates even without a warden.

He stopped the car in front of Penelope’s beach house, where Chloe and the spawn used to live. Sighing, he got out of the car, hoping against hope that the little urchin was asleep so that he could tell Penelope what had happened without upsetting the offspring.

Chloe hated it when he barged in, so he took a deep breath before knocking politely. No need to scare Penelope more than he had to.

Chloe’s mother looked not a day older than when he had last seen her, and she lit up at the sight of him. “Lucifer,” she squealed, hugging him tightly. “What brings you here? Oooh, have you been working out?” The Detective’s mother was her complete opposite. Where Chloe had been repulsed by him on a chemical level when they first met, Penelope had been drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Not that he would ever “tap that.” Unlike Penelope, Chloe was level-headed, reserved, and much more serious. He supposed she got that from her father.

Lucifer cleared his throat. “May I come in?” He asked, waiting patiently for her to detach herself. Clearly, the urchin got her clinginess from her grandmother!

“Yes, yes, of course!” Penelope retreated towards the living room, sitting on her couch. “Would you like some wine? Truthfully, I thought you were going to be with Chloe that’s why she asked me to look after Trixie.”

“Thank you, but no,” Lucifer answered, and the seriousness of his tone must have piqued her attention as she sat up straighter and waited for him to continue. “Chloe and I were indeed supposed to go out, but something happened.”

Lucifer swallowed, unsure of how to continue. “The Detect—Chloe has been kidnapped, and it’s been more than a day and we still haven’t found her.”

A gasp that came from the near the stairs startled him, and he looked towards the side where the spawn hid expertly, no doubt taught by Mazikeen of the Lilim herself. “Child, I—”

Beatrice threw herself on Lucifer, hugging him, seeking comfort from him, as she cried her little eyes out. Her little body was trembling, and even though tears were soaking through the fabric of his shirt, he did not have the heart to push her away. This was his fault, after all.

“Lucifer, can you promise me that you’ll find my mommy?” Beatrice asked, tears shining in her big brown eyes.

“I give you my word that I will find your mother, and I will bring her home,” he promised as his arms slowly wrapped around her small figure. He would bring Chloe back even if it meant he had to Will her to live.

Satisfied with his answer because she knew he never lied, the little urchin nodded.

Lucifer turned towards Mama Decker, who remained still as a rod. “Penelope, darling, are you alright?”

Penelope drank the wine in her glass in one go. “Bring her back, Lucifer. I have already lost my husband. I can’t lose my daughter too,” she said, her voice breaking as she tried to hold her tears back.

“But you’ll punish the bad guys, won’t you?” Beatrice piped, sitting beside Lucifer on the couch. “Show them your red eyes as you did to my bully?”

Lucifer stiffened. “Beatrice—”

Penelope raised a sculpted brow in Lucifer’s direction. “What red eyes?”

“He’s the Devil, Nana, his eyes are so cool. It’s like there’s a fire in them.” Trixie bragged, which confused Lucifer. If he did not know any better, he would think that this child was the miracle and not Chloe. By all means, she should be running from him, yet she seemed horribly attached to him. And wait…she knew?

Lucifer gaped at the spawn’s boldness. “You knew? All this time, you knew?”

Beatrice shrugged. “Duh! I knew you didn’t lie. Besides, Maze and I went trick or treating with her true face, and we got so many candies! It was the best Halloween ever!” The offspring seemed to have gotten over her mother’s abduction, trusting in the Devil’s word that he would find her mother.

Penelope coughed. “Can one of you tell me what’s going on? Trixie, what do you mean Lucifer has red eyes?” Her granddaughter’s imagination is just too active, she reasoned. There was no way that Lucifer was the actual Devil, now was there?

“Show her your wings, Lucifer,” Beatrice pleaded, batting her eyelashes at the poor Devil. “I want to see it too, please!”

Lucifer stood up and squared his shoulders. “Penelope, I am only going to show you because I don’t know what might happen in the next few days. I can feel something is amiss, and I don’t know what’s coming. I give you my word that I will never hurt you or Chloe or Beatrice.” With that, Lucifer rolled his shoulders, and wings of pure starlight burst into existence.

“Woah!!!” Beatrice screamed, steeling herself, fighting the urge to touch the wings that emitted light from within. “They’re so beautiful!”

“Y-You’re an angel. You really are an angel!” Penelope breathed, awed at the sight of his wings but not going mad as other humans tend to after seeing a piece of divinity. Lucifer was impressed. Carrying a miracle in her womb must have made her immune to the less pleasant effects of divinity. It was like his divinity was muted somehow.

“I need you both to pray to me if something happens. Address your prayer to the Archangel Samael, and I will hear them,” Lucifer informed them, unwilling to left them defenseless in case one of them gets abducted too, or worse when demons or other angels come knocking.

“You’re the Devil,” Penelope murmured, but she wasn’t scared. Blinking a few times, she looked at him seriously. “Then I know you will bring her back to me.”

Lucifer was confused. Usually, when humans made the connection that he was the Devil, they flee. “You’re not…scared?”

Penelope shook her head, and Beatrice grinned. “No, I’m not. I have known you for years, and you’ve never hurt Chloe or Trixie, so why would I be afraid?”

Beatrice agreed. “Yes, Nana, he would never hurt us! He saved us from the bad man, and he saved mommy a lot of times!” At Lucifer’s questioning glance, she said, “Maze told me…”

Lucifer barked out a laugh. Of course, his demon would tell the spawn. It’s not like Maze could be trusted to tell the offspring age-appropriate stories. Not that he would have kept it from the spawn either.

“Goodness, you’re an angel!” Penelope screeched, for there was no other word that could have described the sound that came out of the elder Decker’s throat.

“The most beautiful of God’s angels, but who’s asking?” He winked, prompting both Deckers to laugh. Even though the Detective was still missing, Lucifer felt at ease with Penelope and Trixie, especially after they accepted his true nature.

“So if I were to make a deal with the Devil, would you ask for my soul in return? And aren’t you supposed to have horns?” Penelope inquired, and Lucifer knew for sure that she had accepted him.

Lucifer chuckled. How did humans ever get the idea that he wanted their souls? And where did they get the goat thing? Honestly, he didn’t even like their cheese! “No horns, darling, just some serious burns. But this is what I look like from before I fell. Anyway, I don’t need your soul, dear Penelope. What would I do with it? A favor to be named later will suffice.”

Penelope clapped her hands. “Oh, great! Anyway, there’s this movie that I wanted to…”

Lucifer and Beatrice looked at each other and laughed. The Queen of 80’s cheeseball sci-fi truly was dedicated to her acting work.

A little while later, when Beatrice went back to sleep and he had bid Penelope good night, Lucifer walked out of the beach house, feeling like a slight weight had been relieved from his shoulders. He looked up at the L.A. night sky where his stars twinkled. “Oh, Detective. Where art thou, Detective?”

He would bring her back. After all, he made a promise to a certain little urchin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Does she speak Tagalog?"  
> "Yes, she speaks Tagalog."  
> "How are you, Madam?"  
> "I'm good. Are you the police?"  
> "I'm not the police. My name is Lucifer Morningstar, and I am a civilian consultant for the LAPD."  
> "My name's Jovita."  
> "Do you remember the person who bought a bouquet of lilies yesterday? Can you describe what they looked like?"  
> "I remember someone buying a bouquet of lilies yesterday, but I don't recall much of what they looked like..."
> 
> Ferdinand Marcos was the tenth president of the Republic of the Philippines. He was a dictator, who imposed Martial Law and was able to remain in office for 20 years.


	5. Look at This Godforsaken Mess That You Made Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me, you showed me colors you know I can’t see with anyone else.” Illicit Affairs, Taylor Swift

In the beginning, before God made the universe, there was nothing. There was nothing but infinite darkness and Him. Contrary to popular belief, the primordial state of things wasn’t Chaos. For if there was nothing before He created the universe, then something in the form of Chaos could not have existed.

In the beginning, when Light was not non-existent, because God was ever-present, and He was Light, before the dawn of the Morning Star, Darkness was unfamiliar but wary with Light. Light illuminated, and Darkness could not reign freely if there was illumination, so the unspoken war between Light and Dark began, each trying to dominate the other. But after God found Himself at an impasse with Darkness, He realized that without Darkness, He could not be Light.

Darkness remained, wild and vengeful, tamed only with God’s Light.

So used was He to this never-ending darkness that the Goddess’ divine Light had attracted Him to Her, like a moth drawn to a flame. They started to create little things at first—things that caught their fancy, but They quickly grew bored in the black expanse that stretched across the blank canvas. Together, They made Their children, who were unique in their own ways.

Amenadiel, the eldest son and the first of the angels, whom God and Goddess created fully grown, was given the gift of controlling time. God looked towards His first son and decided that They did well. The rest of the angels came after Amenadiel, every single one of them fully grown, and they would go on to be part of the Heavenly Host.

Everything was good.

But Goddess was not satisfied. She craved to have children to raise, children to hold, children to love, and she was determined that unlike Their existing children (Dominions, Cherubs, Seraphs, Thrones, Virtues, Principalities, and Powers), Her next batch of children be made from both Their pure energy and not just Grace.

God acquiesced to the Goddess’ request, and so the Archangels were born. Unlike their elder siblings, the Archangels were much more powerful, and they were the Children of God in every sense of the word. They were born fledglings and were two thousand years apart, for one millennium was equivalent to one human year in age to a celestial. First came Raphael the Healer, then came Gabriel the Messenger, followed by Uriel the Weaver of Patterns, then Raguel the Just.

It was good.

But God felt as though something was missing. He looked towards the Goddess, He could not help but feel discontentment flood in Him, and as He watched His children, He realized what was missing.

Though the angels were divine beings, they did not exude light as brightly as their divine parents, and so beyond the silvery gates of the City, the darkness remained, unyielding and encompassing.

There was not enough Light.

And so two millennia after Raguel was born, the Goddess had given birth to Her next children. Two souls emerged from the blinding light, and as the light dimmed, all of Their children gazed upon their newest siblings.

Both souls vibrated with pure celestial energy coupled with Their Grace, and They knew that these identical beings were more powerful than any of Their children. These two souls were the Demiurge. The first and only twin children of God and Goddess.

The elder twin was Michael the Voice, he who is like God. His younger twin was Samael the Will, who shined brighter than any of his siblings. Michael’s downy wings were pure black, indiscernible in the black expanse of space, but Samael’s wings were of the purest color, white that glittered as he moved. His siblings were in awe of this fledgling, whose wings were as bright as their parents, and they rejoiced at his arrival.

It was good.

A few millennia later, when Azrael was three millennia, and the Archangels were seven in number (because God hated the number six), God called Samael to His side, and his siblings stared at the young archangel in wonder. At five millennia, he was younger than most of his siblings, but he walked towards his Father with all the grace and pride befitting a King.

God looked fondly at His youngest son. “Let there be light, Samael!” He boomed, His voice heard all over the City, and Samael flew towards the empty space, curls hanging loosely on his forehead as he concentrated. A small light emerged from his little hands, which grew bigger and brighter. His siblings below saw that Samael was creating a ball of light, something they had witnessed only their parents could do, and they admired their young brother all the more.

The little angel pushed the ball of light towards the welcoming black expanse of space. “Go!” He commanded, his shining wings spreading as he spread his little arms. Then the ball of light became millions of little lights that pervaded across the plane, morphing and expanding on the black canvas. His siblings cheered from below as they watched stars start to litter the plane. 

Samael flew towards his Father, happy and giggling, stardust falling from his wings as he sped into God’s waiting arms. He did well, and God was proud.

Everything was good.

Well, almost everything.

Goddess smiled. “My Lightbringer, my Morning Star,” She cooed, aching to pull Her youngest son, who burned brighter than any of his siblings, into her embrace along with his twin. Samael was the son most like Her.

She felt Michael squirm, and so She adjusted her hold on him, ruffling his equally curly hair, and allowing Her Grace to soothe the elder twin.

He had quite the temper, her dear Michael. He and Samael were identical in everything but their temperament, which sometimes left Her reeling, thinking that They somehow made a mistake in creating two powerful and identical beings. Together, both twins rivaled Him and Her, but She suspected that separated, only one of them could ascend to Their level. Because of this, She would not look into the future, afraid that one twin would covet the other, She knew would only lead to war between the brothers.

But She ignored her worries as she watched Michael and Samael play with their younger sister, Azrael, and She suppressed a smile as both twins shared a mischievous look and flew towards Amenadiel, intent on antagonizing their eldest brother.

Michael and Samael were two halves of a whole.

The Goddess was right to be afraid. After all, as Michael watched his twin be celebrated, a spot of black tainted his soul. This little spot, though unnoticeable to those who weren’t looking for it, was no less alarming.

—

Anathema. Michael wasn’t jealous, no he wasn’t. It was anathema. Jealousy went against his very nature, so no, Michael wasn’t jealous of his twin. Not at all. The pricking he felt as Father doted on Samael was not jealousy. It wasn’t. Why would he be jealous of Samael?

Father created him first, after all. Besides, Michael was the Power of the Demiurge and God made him the Voice. Samael’s Will was nothing compared to the Power. Will was useless without matter, without raw Power. So no, Michael was not jealous, not jealous at all!

Father had given him command of the Heavenly Host, made him General in His name, while Samael sang in Father’s choir, playing tunes on his little lyre. Truly, Michael was the more useful twin, whom God was surely grooming to be Heaven’s Prince. Why else would God allow him to order the Eldest? 

Michael pasted a smile on his lips as Samael ran towards him, resplendent in his gleaming gold armor, and Michael felt a slight twinge in his heart as his eyes fell on his armor. Unlike Samael’s, his was silver like the rest of the Host. Nothing to set him apart. Nothing to indicate that he was more powerful than them. Michael could not help but love his twin a little less.

Why was he always so perfect in Father’s eyes?

Why did his siblings love Samael more than he?

Why hadn’t Father given him the same white wings?

Oblivious to his twin’s inner conflict, Samael sauntered towards Michael, holding his lyre. “Mi,” he greeted. “We are being called to a gathering in the Great Hall. Gabriel said Father will be announcing something important.”

And the irritation that Michael felt vanished. This was it. Father was going to name him as Prince of Heaven. This was the moment that he had been waiting for his whole life! See, he had no need for jealousy. He was to be named as Father’s right hand, after all. He felt giddy as he thought of surpassing his twin.

“Lead the way, Brother,” Michael replied, excitement churning in his gut. Samael’s answer was a blinding smile that literally made the Star of the Morning shine brighter, and Michael was proud to admit that it only annoyed him a little bit.

Michael silently fumed with anger, like a volcano threatening to erupt. He had strode in the Great Hall with Samael trailing behind him, proudly taking his place in the dais that was only slightly lower than where his parents were, waiting patiently for his Father to address him as he knew God would.

“Michael, come forth!” God had called, and Michael bowed in front of his Father.

“Let it be known that from this day forward,” God began, and Michael’s ever expressive wings quivered in anticipation, “that the Archangel Michael be named as the Sword of God!”

Michael’s bowed head concealed his crumpled face, disappointment evident on his features. Sword of God? He had been assured the title of Prince of Heaven! Raziel had promised, so it must be true! If he was more like Samael, he would have whined and sulked. But he was better than Samael, wasn’t he? So he would endure just as he had endured Samael’s many blessings from their Father.

Standing as gracefully as he could, he flew back swiftly towards the dais as humiliation burned in him. There was time yet, he reasoned. Eternity was a long, long time, after all. Surely, Father was only testing him to see if he was worth it of being named Prince, and Michael was determined to prove himself. He would not fail. If being the Sword of God meant that he had to slay threats from the Unknown, then so be it!

But as Samael was called forth, their Father naming him as the First of God, Michael could not help the fury that coursed in him. Father was not grooming Michael to be Prince. Father was grooming Samael, not him. Never him.

After the accompanying banquet, Samael approached his twin warily, knowing that the fragile peace between them had acquired more cracks as Father named him the First. Michael had not been able to stop himself from snapping at Helel. 

“Leave me be, Brother!” He roared, deep brown eyes turning pitch black in his rage. That was another thing that the twins had different. Samael’s eyes were light amber, but his eyes glowed gold every time he used his Light.

“Mi,” Samael pleaded, unwilling to let the argument fester into something much, much worse. He had not asked for Father’s blessings. He had not asked to be named as the First. He had never craved power as Michael had. He did not wish to be given a title as Michael did. “Please, Mi, I can talk to Father if you want. I—”

Michael gripped his sword tightly. “Leave, Brother, now! Go, Brother, for the anger consumes me!”

Samael left, and Michael could not help but hate his brother a little more.

Later on, just as humanity was little more than a population of two, Michael threw Samael’s battered body from the edge of the Silver City, feeling nothing but satisfaction, although it was tainted with Samael’s unwillingness to fight him, determined to keep his word on never hurting his twin. But Michael had no such qualms. He did not need to keep his word. He did not want to keep his word.

As Samael caught fire on his way to Hell, falling faster than the stars he made, body burning, healing, and burning again, praying for help in his agonized state, Michael allowed himself to smile. Samael was getting what he deserved, and Michael would finally get what he deserved.

—

Michael huffed as he entered the earthly plane of existence. Raziel was as cryptic as always. The Keeper of Secrets had agreed to follow him millennia ago, but that did not mean that she was going to give him little more than clues! No matter, surely, he would decode whatever prophecy Father had made.

 _Five mortal lives_ could be about the mortals that Lucifer surrounded himself with, barring Chloe Decker. She will be something else—something mortals could only ever dream of.

 _Four damning horses_ could only be the Horsemen, which was understandable since they were integral to his plans.

 _Three different planes_ could only be the three planes of existence, Heaven, Earth, and Hell.

 _Two little creases_ were surely about Amenadiel and Lucifer, who would no doubt try to stop him. The Eldest had the knack for sticking his nose where he did not belong, and the Fallen One would be going after Chloe. But both the Fury and the Poison were by no means little. In fact, even though Michael was loath to admit it, Lucifer was still one of the most powerful angels, short only of Michael himself.

 _One ineffable plan_ was Father’s great plan, and of that, Michael was certain.

God’s plan was ineffable, meaning all of what was to come had already been allowed to happen by Him, but Michael would relish the pain that would inevitably befall Lucifer. His darling brother should have just stayed in Hell, guarding the demons, then Michael would have been content to watch the humans from afar, secured in his place as God’s right hand. (But who was he lying to? He would have visited earth for the miracle anyway. Besides, Samael must die, and the prophecy must be fulfilled.)

Everything that would happen should be blamed on Lucifer! He was poison to everything he touched, and Michael felt such joy by thinking about the end for the creatures that Lucifer so desperately loved. Humanity would suffer, and that was Lucifer's fault. It would always be Samael's fault.

In truth, Michael just wanted to prove to everyone that he was better than Lucifer, and what better way to do it than to take everything his brother had? Father had always favored the abomination more than any of His children, bestowing the best gifts on the Tainted One. This had always irritated Michael, but as Lucifer fell from the High Heavens, he knew everything would be different.

Lucifer was vilified by the two-legged creatures he envied and loved in equal measure while Father had allowed it to happen. Michael knew then that he had won. Or so he thought.

After Lucifer was cast out, the Silver City had become duller, the Star of the Morning growing dimmer. The Goddess had mourned the loss of her youngest son deeply, for Samael was gone, exiled to Hell, unreachable in his miserable punishment. Mother saw the exact moment that Samael ceased to exist. Mother watched helplessly as the Devil was born from the death of the Archangel, raw and bleeding and vengeful. Mother trembled as Hell had trembled in the wrath of its new master.

In Her anger, She had sent countless plagues and tragedies that struck the humans, and before any one of them knew what was happening, She had been sent to Hell as well.

Through it all, through Samael’s rebellion, through Mother’s defiance, God had remained a powerful presence on His Heavenly throne if a bit colder and quieter. But when Michael secretly followed Father as He walked through the Garden of Gold, where the Garden of Eden had been fashioned after, His shoulders slumped, and His Light weary, Michael knew then that Father, though He would never say anything to His children, mourned the loss of Samael just as Mother had. And because of this, Michael had always wondered why God had allowed His favorite son to fall if it brought Him much loneliness.

Fallen, abominable, sinful though Samael may be, he still held his place in God’s heart as the favorite son.

Fallen, exiled, and broken though Samael may be, Michael could not help but envy him a little more.

That was the first time Michael feared that he would never be able to get rid of the shadow that Samael left behind. That was the first time Michael feared that he would never be able to fill the Samael-shaped hole in God’s heart.

As millennia passed and God’s longing for Helel remained, bitterness ruled in Michael’s heart. Thousands of years after the rebellion and of Lucifer’s condemnation to Hell, yet the remnants of Samael in the Silver City had not faded. His memories had lived on through Azrael, who loved Samael with all her being, favoring him over everyone else just as Father had.

Every time news of Lucifer’s trips on earth pilfered their way to Heaven through Gabriel, Michael would observe Father’s countenance. Whenever Gabriel told stories of Lucifer’s most recent exploits, Father’s Light would change ever so subtly that Michael was the only one who would always notice. Anger always churned unpleasantly in his gut when this happened.

It was a reminder that Father could never truly hate the monster.

It was a reminder that Father was blind from seeing the monster.

“When I arrived to deliver a message to Moses just as Father asked, I was surprised to see that Samael was already there, disguised as a burning bush! A burning bush!” Gabriel exclaimed, his voice drowned out by Azrael’s delighted laugh and Raphael’s snort.

“He always had a taste for drama, our brother,” Raguel replied, winking at Azrael. “Maybe you should take a few lessons from him, Gabe. I think you’ll find a better reception to your messages if you were a tad like him,” she teased. (And when Gabe decided to appear in front of Mary dressed in a Roman senator’s toga instead of the robes he favored in Heaven, uttering the words, “You have found favor with God” in his most charming voice, dazzling the young lady, then that wasn’t Lucifer’s idea, not Lucifer’s idea at all.)

After, when Michael had grown sick of his siblings’ collective fawning over Samael, he had ordered Gabriel that he was not to cross paths with Lucifer until Michael allowed it. Gabriel had no choice but to follow his command (but if Gabe defied this order at least once, then Michael would never know unless his tongue slipped).

Michael then tasked the Eldest to bring Lucifer back to Hell every time he went topside. At least with Amenadiel, he was sure that the only news of Lucifer that Heaven would hear was that he had returned to Hell. So if Heaven grew quieter and his siblings became no more than soldiers, then that wasn’t his problem now, was it?

God was blind to Samael’s faults, and Michael was sure He would have forgiven the Fallen One eventually had Michael not stopped Gabriel from bringing more news of Lucifer. After hearing about the burning bush incident, Michael happened upon Father in the Gardens, looking up at the Star of the Morning in his human form, weeping silently, possibly thinking of granting amnesty to the Devil.

But Michael could not let Father welcome Lucifer back, and Amenadiel was just the right angel for it.

Perhaps God had aptly named Samael. The Blindness of God. God had always been blinded with Samael’s Light, which had rendered Him ignorant, unable to detect the rot that lay beneath the surface. But God had always been blind in love. He had been just as blinded with Mother, unused as He was then from seeing divine Light from another like Him, and Samael was Mother’s son through and through while Michael was Father’s. Truly, Father had doted upon the wrong twin. In Michael’s opinion, He should have devoted his time to Michael himself, he who is like God.

After his fall, Lucifer began hating Samael. He thought God had deemed him to be His poison, and although Michael wished this was the case, even he could admit that God had named his brother for His weakness. Michael, however, took advantage of Lucifer’s hate, tracking his brother on earth in the 15th century and accusing him of being poison, which had taken all the fight out of Lucifer, allowing Michael to drag him to the Gates of Hell easily.

He enjoyed the rush he felt when he dragged his twin back to Hell. Perhaps he should not have delegated the task to Amenadiel and overtaken it himself. The victory that would course in his veins every time he put his twin in his place would have been worth the effort of mingling with the humans through the centuries.

Michael landed in front of the abandoned warehouse with a foot of reinforced steel for its walls, which was the same one where Cain’s henchman had “imprisoned” Lucifer. His twin would never think to look for the Detective here, and Michael smiled, clutching the coffee he bought for the miracle. He had told the demon Mazikeen that he paid attention, and that was true. He had been paying attention to Lucifer, determined to end the game.

His plans, which had been devised with a brilliance similar to Father’s, would end up with Lucifer’s non-existence. He had carefully crafted his plans for millennia, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike, and Father even helped him decide when to put everything in motion, albeit inadvertently. His decision to create a miracle that made Lucifer vulnerable in this lifetime had solidified Michael’s decision. Lucifer would die once and for all, and Michael would ascend.

Lucifer could not dare compete if he was dead now, can he? Father would finally see how wrong He was! Yes, Michael thought, he would finally win. Heaven would forget Samael, and earth would continue to vilify Lucifer. It was a plan worthy of the Almighty God Himself.

Michael stared at Chloe, amused at her determination to escape.

“Hello, Detective,” he greeted, and his smile grew as she stopped her relentless banging, playing the helpless doll once more. “I brought you coffee. One tall, non-fat, almond milk latte with sugar-free caramel drizzle.” He held the cup towards her, waiting for her to thank him for his generosity. “It’s your favorite, come on! Come on!”

She smiled up at him, walking towards him.

He was surprised when she threw the cup on the ground, spilling coffee all over the dirty floor. “Hey! That was, like, seven bucks!” He complained, face wrinkling, although money was of no consequence to him. He just loved riling her up. She was feisty, but most importantly, she was to be part of his ascension.

“What am I doing here, Michael?” She asked with barely hidden contempt. Father had truly outdone Himself in creating this human. She was beautiful in a way that no other mortal could be, but that could be from the small amount of divinity within her. Days of captivity but the gold in her hair had not dimmed, merely hid under the grime, but despite her rumpled appearance, she had that air of authority about her. She was fit to be a queen. It would be a shame if Hell desecrated her. She belonged in Heaven.

“Don’t worry,” Michael started, looking around the old freezer, “this is just temporary.” Temporary for an immortal like him. After all, a few years was a mere blink in his lifespan. But as soon as he destroyed Lucifer, then she would be set free to take up her place as Queen. “It’s all part of a bigger plan.”

“Plan? What plan? To make me dislike you even more?” She mocked, trying her best to get a rise out of him just as she had when she confronted him in the Penthouse. Unfortunately for her, Michael grew up with the most annoying being in the entire multiverse—Lucifer.

Michael chuckled. “No,” he snorted, “kind of the opposite, actually.” He adjusted his brown coat, the scar on his face morphing as he continued. “But, spoiler alert, it’s going to be epic. Just you wait!”

He leaned casually on the nearby crate, putting his hands in his pockets. “But until then, I figured we should catch up.” Wasn’t this what humans did on a date? Talk about trivial matters such as the past? “I mean, a lot has happened since we saw each other last.” Like her giving herself to Lucifer. No matter, she had given life to a mortal man’s child, and he was not the least bit threatened.

Chloe scoffed, unbowed, unbent, unbroken. “And why would I talk to you?”

“Because you want to know what they mean,” Michael reasoned, and as long as she reeked of fear, he could make her believe the lies that he would spin. “The changes that my brother’s been going through, although I’m sure deep down you already probably know, don’t you?”

She knew that angels self-actualized, but she didn’t know the extent of it now, did she? She did not know how an angel’s self-actualization could be affected by mere thoughts.

Chloe crossed her arms. “Oh, so it’s this again? Trying to make me afraid of my relationship with Lucifer?”

“Now you see that’s just it, Detective,” Michael began, “just like Lucifer can’t create desires, I can’t create fears. I just expose what’s already there, and girl you reek of fear!” That was a lie. His presence called to the primal urge of humans to run from him while Lucifer’s allure spawned desire in those who have none. Aside from this, Michael could misdirect a human’s fear just as Lucifer could misdirect a person’s desire.

Chloe shook her head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” She was done with Michael. She was done listening to his lies. But…

“So you’re not afraid of what his newfound invulnerability means?” Michael drawled, and when her fear magnified, he knew he had her. “Because you do know that we angels self-actualize, right, which means that him choosing to be vulnerable around you actually meant something, so I’m just…you know, putting it out there. I wonder what this new development could mean.” 

“You’re wrong!” Chloe spat, glaring at Michael. “You’re wrong. Lucifer and I are closer than ever.”

Michael knew that she was trying to convince herself more than him. It was time to “bring out the big guns” as the humans would say. “Yeah, you’re right,” he agreed, feigning defeat. “I mean, we all know Lucifer doesn’t lie, so when he tells you he loves you, you know he really means it, right?”

As he expected, Chloe’s features turned sad. “Unless—oh no! No, no, no! He hasn’t said it yet, has he, even though you said it to him?” She remained quiet, although tears already started to form in her big blue eyes. “That is…ugh! Looks like you need some time to yourself,” Michael cajoled, gesturing around the abandoned freezer.

As Michael called to her fears, Chloe was struck with longing. For Trixie. For Lucifer. Even though Michael was physically identical to Lucifer, except for the slating scar across his face, of course, both twins were worlds apart in terms of how they treat those around them. She could tell that Michael looked down on humans just because he can while Lucifer revered her race. Lucifer envied humanity because they were gifted with free will, which was something he had dreamed to have since forever.

At Michael’s victorious smile, Chloe couldn’t help but retaliate. “You’re just like your Father,” she began, ignoring her fears and rekindling her anger for him. “You’re both manipulative, and you both don’t care about hurting others.”

Michael tilted his head. “Was that supposed to hurt my feelings, Detective? Why you’ve just bestowed the highest of compliments upon me!” He grinned. If she thought she could intimidate him with her words, then he would prove her wrong. “I’m not Lucifer, Detective, I don’t hate being compared to our Father. In fact, I love it. I am of God. I will always be of God. Don’t you know, Detective, that unlike Lucifer, I would never renounce my name? I am Michael, he who is like God!”

But she wasn’t done. “Yes, I get it. The “big plan,” the superiority complex, the “It would not end well for Lucifer” bit? How very God-like of you.” She looked him straight in the eye, willing him to hurt deeply with her next words. “But that did not matter to Him, did it? It didn’t matter that you were more like Him because He still chose Lucifer. Lucifer is God’s favorite son, and not you. Never you. Even now, God had given Lucifer his wings back.”

Michael shook his head furiously, black invading his usual brown eyes, and Chloe couldn’t help but wonder why she was ever afraid of Lucifer’s hellfire eyes. Chloe found Michael’s black eyes more unsettling than the deep crimson the Devil used to punish criminals. Perhaps because she knew Lucifer would never hurt her while Michael could easily kill her.

“Quiet! You know not of what you speak!” He thundered, and the lights flickered. “Out of all of us, Helel turned out to be the one most unholy.” Yes, Michael had been annoyed when he realized that when his brother’s wings grew back, they were still imbued with Grace. They were still divine. Even though the fires of Hell had touched Lucifer, it had not desecrated his wings. Those damned wings that inspired awe in Heaven.

Helel? “Yeah, but I guess I do understand God’s favoritism. After all, if I were to choose between you and Lucifer, I would choose Lucifer too!” Chloe shot back, proud of herself for not flinching as Michael raged. “Don’t worry, Michael. Whatever you do, Lucifer will always be better than you.”

_Oh, Chloe, look at this godforsaken mess that you made me._

Michael pulled her up by the neck. “Do you think Father noticed how loyal or obedient I am during the countless millennia that I served Him? Probably not. Father only ever had eyes for Lucifer! He never bothered to look at any of His other children. He never looked at me! If He did, He would not have wasted showering the monster with gifts far more valuable than everything you know.”

Michael released his hold on her, dropping her unceremoniously on the floor, allowing her to breathe. Chloe did not agree with God most of the time, especially with His treatment of Lucifer, but if all of His other children were as psychotic as Michael, then she could not blame Him for favoring Lucifer. Michael was too blind, too jealous to make the right choices, and she wondered how much of that blindness and jealousy stemmed from envying Lucifer.

“But you’re right. As long as Lucifer lives, Father will never see me,” Michael continued, crouching in front of her. “All I have to do is kill my brother. I mean, how hard can it be? You think your Lucifer’s so strong, so powerful, and so perfect, but he is nothing in the face of my power. Do you think Heaven will mourn for the monster’s death? Do you think Father will punish me for it? Lucifer killed our brother, Uriel, and Father had not punished him. I assure you, Father would not care for His wayward son’s death. He might even thank me for it!”

“No!” Chloe shouted, hands raising to strike him, but Michael caught her before she touched his face. Lucifer was not a killer, so whatever had happened, Lucifer must have had no other choice. Right? Lucifer told her once that Marcus was the first human he had killed, and if Uriel was their brother, then—No. He would tell her if she asked, and he would never lie to her. She would just have to believe in him.

“Oh, yes, Detective. And when I’m done with him, you will ascend with me to Heaven’s throne, for there is no doubt that Father will reward me for this task. You will be my Queen, and you will bore me children. We will bring about the coming of the New Age,” he purred, moving closer to her, and Chloe shrunk back to the wall. “It won’t be that hard, Detective. I am told that Lucifer and I look the same, and if you could stomach the hideous form of my brother enough to lay with him, then you can do so with me. After all, I am like the brightest star in comparison to that hellish beast.”

Chloe spat on his face. “I will never, ever sleep with you, and I will sooner go to Hell than be your Queen. Mark my words, Michael, Lucifer will never let that happen,” she retaliated, blue eyes colder than the coldest winter. She would not crumble beneath the force of his threats. “You think you know Lucifer just because you knew who he was when he was still in Heaven? Well, I’m telling you that he’s changed. He will find a way to defeat you, and when he does, I will end you myself. You don’t know Lucifer as I do. I know that he will do anything for those he loved, and he loves me.”

Surprise flashed in Michael’s eyes as he heard her. Impossible. He sensed how her fear of rejection grew earlier, so how was it possible that she remained strong in face of her insecurities? 

“And I know that he loves me,” Chloe breathed, ignoring the soreness of her parched and bruised throat. “Even though he has not said the words yet, I know he loves me. He is not good with words, and that’s probably because of your dysfunctional family, but he shows me enough through his actions. He loves me, and I love him. He saved me countless times, and I know he’s looking for me at this very moment. ”

She pulled herself from the floor, standing in front of him so that she looked down on him. “If I were given a choice between you and him, I will choose him. I will choose him over and over again just as he always chose me. I will never turn my back on Lucifer no matter how many times you use my fear against me because I love him. And no matter what you do to me, to us, you will never be able to change that. So give it your best shot, Michael, because God knows you will only have one.”

Michael stood, clapping slowly. “How touching. Your loyalty to my fallen brother astounds me.,” he said scornfully. “You humans are so fascinating, but oh so clueless! Just so you know, Lucifer will never win. Isn’t it written in your Bible that the Devil will be thrown in a lake of fire and sulfur to suffer for eternity? Of course, I planned to send him to oblivion, but delaying his death for a thousand years of suffering is more fulfilling, no?”

Chloe didn’t rise at his provocation, opting to remain silent, wishing that he would go away if she did. But at her silence, Michael only grew angrier. “Let me tell you a big secret, Detective,” Michael pestered, “I was the one who personally cast Lucifer out of Heaven. And when I saw him falling, I was still unsatisfied. So I whispered to the planes where he was rapidly falling, commanding them to burn the rebel, and they happily did as they were told, thinking that I was Father. Voice of God and all that. You see, the planes of existence were made by Father, by the Power of Creation, and so traversing these planes must be made with caution by everyone including us celestials.”

Chloe balled her fist, knuckles turning white, and Michael was pleased to see that he was starting to get a reaction from her.

“So he “caught” fire. He burned, healed, and burned again and again. His screams were music to my ears. As he burned, he prayed to me, “Mi,” he pleaded, “please help me!” He was willing to swallow his pride and beg Father for forgiveness, but I, of course, ignored him. At last, he was thrown out of Heaven! At last, I had won! Believe me, it was no easy feat to incite a rebellion through your brother, and I wasn’t going to throw away my hard work just to save my twin.”

Michael sighed as if reliving his time in Heaven before Lucifer was cast out. “Lucifer was terribly loyal to Father, and questioning Him was anathema, but oh, did his tune change when Father told us that humans were going to have free will. From there, it had been easy to have Lucifer tempt Eve and question Father. I was slightly disappointed when the rebellion arrived, though, as he only had a third of our siblings, all of them unarmed, wishing to have an audience with Father. In the end, Lucifer could not even raise a weapon against me,” he said triumphantly.

Lucifer had been thrown out of Heaven because of Michael. Lucifer had suffered because of Michael. Her partner, her often clueless and childish partner had been thrown out of his home because his twin brother was jealous of the attention that God was showering him with. Oh, how Chloe would have loved to wipe the smirk from Michael’s face.

Now, she understood Lucifer’s frustrations when he barged in on her apartment, bruised and bleeding, telling her about finding out that his twin had been manipulating him for eons, and she just left him blindsided because she hated being a miracle. She blamed him, implied that he should have been used to celestial manipulations by now without realizing that it was he who got the shorter end of the stick and not her.

“And what did you hope to achieve by telling me all of that, huh, Michael?” She asked, voice breaking half in anger and half from the suffering that Lucifer had gone through. “Was I supposed to congratulate you on successfully hurting Lucifer? Was your little confession supposed to impress me? Because let me tell you that it didn’t. It only made me realize how selfish you are, how monstrous you are.”

“Oh no, Detective. I only wanted you to understand how far I’ll go to get what I want. Lucifer is my twin, my other half, but I was willing to sacrifice that bond in order to fulfill the prophesied Ascension. Don’t think you are so irreplaceable that you can talk back to me just because you are a living miracle. You are not irreplaceable, although I suppose no miracle in Heaven is as beautiful you. You will submit, Chloe, this I promise you. You will bend to me even if I have to use Command on you.”

Once, a lifetime ago, Samael had been the brightest of the angels, God’s most favored son, the stalwart archangel. If Michael could have the favorite son thrown out of the Silver City, then he could conquer this miracle. After all, despite her undeniably divine origin, she was still so painfully human.

“I have a quick errand to run, but don’t worry, Detective, I will be back before you even know I’m gone. Enjoy the warehouse!” He jeered but frowned as soon as he turned his back on her.

What did Father see in Samael that Michael did not have?

Samael was outspoken, much too willful, too rebellious, and yet God adored him over Michael, who was His most loyal.

It wasn’t fair.

Damned to Hell and fated to lose everything, Samael was still happier than Michael was in Heaven.

It wasn’t fair.

Samael rebelled against God for God’s sake. How was he still allowed to roam the earth freely instead of being punished in Hell?

Could Father be even subtle in His favoritism? Probably not. However, He did not really specify that the miracle was for Lucifer. Who’s to say that she wasn’t for Michael himself? After all, Father knew that he would come to earth.

But even as he defended his right to the miracle, he realized it was all for naught. Chloe Decker’s hair was as bright as the Sun that Samael had made, her blue eyes were as blue as the stars that went nova, and her soul was as pure as raw starlight. Her stubbornness even reminded him of a young and willful archangel during a time long past. It was not hard to connect the dots. As He crafted Chloe Decker into being, Father had thought of Samael. Not Michael. Never Michael.

Even prophesied to win, to ascend, and to rule, Michael would always be overlooked.

Even prophesied to suffer, to lose, and to die, Samael would always be held by Father in high regards. For this, Michael could not help but hate him all the more.

He sighed.

War was coming, and Samael’s days were numbered. What were a few months in his lifespan anyway? He was patient, he could wait. A few months was nothing compared to the millennia that he had to tolerate his twin’s existence.

In a few months, the game would be over, and the board will reset. At his twin’s death, a new age will come forth, and Michael would be at the helm of the universe this time around.

He would not fail.

He could not fail.

As he flew in the night, Raziel’s voice echoed in his head.

 _As the Gates open,_  
_Light will try to defend,_  
_But one’s death is imminent,_  
_And one will ascend._

_From the two brothers,_  
_A King will rise from embers,_  
_A miracle will give birth,_  
_And the new age will come forth._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Bible has a lot of prophecies, so I figured I'll have more than one as well. Yeah, Michael is cray-cray! 
> 
> I made Lucifer the youngest son of God and Goddess because it makes sense. Lucifer's kinda spoiled, and it shows. 
> 
> Also, Helel is Hebrew for "The Shining One."
> 
> If you caught my little Game of Thrones reference...heh heh heh 
> 
> What are your predictions?


	6. For You I Would Ruin Myself A Million Little Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And you know damn well, for you I would ruin myself a million little times.” Illicit Affairs, Taylor Swift

Chloe’s abduction was his worst nightmare. He had been readying himself to let her go when her time came, but he was under the impression that it would be decades before that had happened.

With every day that went by without finding any lead, he made it his mission to visit Penelope and the little urchin. At least, he could comfort the grandmother and granddaughter duo even though he felt like he was lying every time he promised that he would find Chloe soon. He wasn’t technically lying every time he promised, but he was an immortal. A few years was nothing but a blink in his lifespan.

It still felt like lying to the urchin, though. Beatrice with her big doe eyes, dark brown like his, but expressive like Chloe’s. Beatrice was smart, and Lucifer suspected that she knew he was only trying to make her feel better as both of her parents were MIA at the moment. Daniel was too busy trying to get over his existential crisis while Chloe was—

She was a gem, the little spawn. Every tear that she let fall when she thought no one was looking broke Lucifer’s heart.

It was all his fault. If he hadn’t been so focused on finding a way to have his mojo back, Chloe would not have been taken. Being around Beatrice was both torture and reprieve, but he would not abandon the urchin even though it brought him much guilt. He owed her that much.

Beatrice had gone through a lot for someone so young. Her parents had separated, and everything she knew had been taken from her. Not long after, her mother got shot by a greedy producer, she got kidnapped by a hell-bound corrupt cop, and her mother got into a car accident, then she lived with an actual demon, which, in Lucifer’s opinion, was like living in Hell. (Raising hell was baked into Maze’s demonic DNA, after all.)

But Dad bless the child, she was awfully optimistic, not unlike Ms. Lopez in that regard. Beatrice was the only human child he had allowed himself to know, and although her childish glee annoyed him at first, she grew on him, like a mushroom that grew anywhere damp. Aside from this, she had outgrown her stickiness, and she was turning out to be a kind soul like her mother. Honestly, try as he might, he could not see Daniel in both her features and mannerisms. She was all Chloe’s, and if his heart contracted every time she reminded him of the Detective, then no one would ever know except for dear old Dad, of course.

He would do anything for the spawn, and he hoped Chloe remembered that. He hoped the thought brought her comfort; that even though she was not with Beatrice, she would rest assured that Lucifer would take care of her daughter.

“Lucifer?” Beatrice’s small voice pulled him out of his musing. They were laying on the sand as the waves roared loudly beside them. The sun had long since set, and they watched as the night slowly crept in. His stars twinkled in the distance as if showing off their brilliance to their creator, and the moon had emerged from her hiding place. Beatrice had kindly asked if they could go to the beach, and by kindly, he meant puppy dog eyes were involved. Lucifer and Penelope had not the heart to say no to her. (He was the master of puppy dog eyes, but Beatrice’s was something else.)

Beatrice shifted, moving closer to him, no doubt getting sand all over his tailored Armani pants. “Is it true that there is a star for everyone who died?”

They were laying on the sand, side by side, hip to hip, and Lucifer had shed his coat sometime after the sun went down. “It’s not true. If it were, the sun would not be the only star in this system. Why do you ask?”

She was thinking hard, he knew, for he could feel her hesitation. “Your mother shines brighter than any of my stars. Are you afraid they’ll mistake her for one and take her away?” He paused, dusting sand from his arm. “You know they won’t actually do that, right? For one, they are too far away, and second, stars aren’t sentient beings, so they have no consciousness. They can’t decide to just take people away.”

Beatrice snorted, nose wrinkling, but she was smiling all the same. “I know that, Lucifer,” she laughed, “I’m not four anymore!” Really, Lucifer had no idea of the development of an average human spawn, may it be physical or mental. He was neither a father nor a human, so how was he supposed to know that she had outgrown her childish ridiculousness? For Dad’s sake, she still wore her mint sushi shirt. Did that not count as ridiculous?

“Then why do you ask, spawn?” He asked, sitting up, glaring at the sand that was all over him. He hated sand. It was rough, course, and irritating, and it gets bloody everywhere! He was sure he would find more in his curling hair, which had started to escape its sharply-combed confines. Why did he agree to this again? Ah, right, the urchin’s puppy dog eyes damned him.

Beatrice sighed, and Lucifer cringed at the heaviness of it. She was not supposed to suffer like this. It was all his fault. “It was just something I read from the internet, and I know it’s a load of frappe, but I was hoping Grandpa John was looking out for mom,” she admitted, sitting up, hugging her folded legs.

A load of frappe? Pride swelled in Lucifer’s chest. The little deviant was growing up to be a wonderful human but with a wink of devilishness in her.

Lucifer observed the child’s countenance, taking in her small frame and shining eyes. She was trying so hard to be strong, but she didn’t have to. She wasn’t supposed to feel all these horrors in the first place, and not for the first time, Lucifer silently cursed God for allowing the suffering of innocents. Beatrice did not deserve to be punished like this. Beatrice did not deserve to lose her mother so abruptly.

“Chil—Beatrice,” Lucifer began, and the young Decker hastily wiped the tears from her face. “Your grandfather is in the Silver City, and I know he is watching over your mother.” As long as he is permitted to, he didn’t say.

For the first time since Lucifer Morningstar met Beatrice Decker, the Devil pulled the girl closer, wrapping an arm around her small frame. “I’ll find her, and I’ll bring her home,” he promised, though deep in his heart he wondered if promising that Chloe’s safety was guaranteed would be the first lie he had ever told. He hoped not. For the urchin’s sake, he hoped not.

Not for the first time, he wondered if free will was well worth its price. Perhaps God had been wrong not to interfere in human affairs. Perhaps He should not have commanded angels not to meddle.

Not for the first time, he wondered if he had been wrong to advocate for free will. Perhaps he should not have envied the humans. Now that he had seen its poison, perhaps he should have been contented with his purpose as one of God’s angels.

Beatrice looked at him then, tears glistening in her eyes. “Don’t—” _Don’t promise. Don’t give me hope. Don’t stop looking for her. Don’t leave me, please._ In the end, she nodded at him. “Thank you, Lucifer,” she whispered brokenly.

He ran a hand in his hair, ruffling it further. What was he supposed to do next? Was this his cue to buy her a whole chocolate cake? Should he pat her head? Oh, Dad…

Beatrice giggled at his confusion, and the sound calmed Lucifer’s inner turmoil. “I didn’t know your hair is curly…I like it. I think it looks better like that.”

Lucifer frowned and put a hand on his chest. “Spawn, that is preposterous!” He gasped, eyes comically wide. “You shouldn’t say such things! Do you know how long it takes me to put all of the necessary products in my hair? Do you know how hard it is to tame the errant curls?” Perfection takes time, and his dashing playboy look wasn’t a just-rolled-out-of-bed kind of get up. It took him eons to find a style that actually suited him.

The Greco-Roman period was nice and all, after all, orgies and all types of other sins were prevalent during those times. However, the traditional garb and toga reminded him of the robes that angels wore in the Silver City. But the fashion sense of the early Egyptians was something else, though. Lucifer particularly liked the Egyptian kohl, which brought out his eyes, and the mostly topless outfits that he got to wear. Let’s just say Cleopatra was monogamous before she had the best night of her life. Poor Mark Antony could not measure up to Lucifer’s standards, which had led to devastating rows between the two.

Lucifer would have stayed longer in Egypt, but he had grown complacent, and a few high-ranking officials had seen his divine wings. They thought he was Horus, visiting them from the Field of Reeds, and they fell to their knees and worshipped him. Amenadiel had dragged him to Hell not long after that.

“Why do you insist on “taming” it then, Lucifer?” Beatrice asked, tilting her head in the same way that Chloe did every time she was wondering about something she didn’t particularly understand. “You look nicer like this.” It wasn’t as though he was going for nice. After all, the Devil shouldn’t look nice. Sinful? Yes. The embodiment of temptation? YES. Nice? Eh.

“If you must know, child, I-I don’t like it because…it reminds me of who I was,” Lucifer sighed then he looked towards the sky to avoid meeting Beatrice’s curious stare. The memory was painful enough as it was. He didn’t need to be reminded of his own naivety when he looked into her big brown eyes. Once, a lifetime ago, Lucifer looked at his Father with the same wonder that Beatrice had in her eyes every time she looked at him. Samael’s reverence for God did not end well for the young archangel, and Lucifer could only hope that Beatrice’s admiration for him would not end in a similar way.

He continued, drumming his fingers on his thighs. “Heaven is wonderful. Your Bible’s description of it doesn’t do it justice. The Silver City is different than Earth in that it’s perfect in every way. Dad’s book got the gist of it, though. Heaven is a place to worship our Father. I was part of the Heavenly Choir, and I was happy. Then Father had started tinkering with a new project in His workshop, and that project was humanity. Mother did not like it, but She was content to take care of Her children, ignoring Him and His “little pets,” and so They had grown indifferent towards each other. I loved my Father, and I didn’t mind waiting outside His workshop until He decided He was done for the day, but I knew something was wrong. Mother grew steadily aloof, and Father—well, Father was calm. Perhaps too calm.” Goddess loved Her children dearly. She was brimming with anger towards God, towards humanity, but She kept Her silence and stayed for Her angels.

Lucifer breathed, clenching his jaw. “I was young then, probably about 18 millennia, and I worshipped the grounds that my Father walked on. Quite literally. I idolized Him. I revered Him. He need not commanded it out of me because I would have blindly followed Him to the ends of the known universe.” Maybe that was the reason why millennia after, the memories of the Fall still left him reeling. Father’s betrayal hurt more than the actual burning while Father’s silence stung him more than it should have stung an angel who no longer considered himself “of God.”

But deep down, he knew that his anger towards God was to numb the hurt he felt. Deep down, he knew he could never really hate the Father that he loved with all that he had, and with all that he was. For if everything started with him as a son, then it would all end with him as a son no matter how many times he changed his name. Lucifer or Samael, Devil or Archangel, El was imprinted in his very being.

As if sensing Lucifer’s somber mood, the waves had ceased their relentless roaring crashes, calming into gentle leaps. “During those times, His human form looked much like me, all tall and dark with flashing amber eyes. Whatever His style was, I would copy it. Father kept His hair untamed, and so I grew my hair to match His. Heaven would know me as the Archangel with wild curls.” That was true. Even though he and Michael looked alike, by the time the Voice had been appointed as general, Michael had maintained his short hair, which allowed him to move more freely in combat.

Lucifer turned to look at the small human, who listened to him with rapt attention. “So you could imagine what I felt, spawn, when He threw me out of Heaven like yesterday’s rubbish,” Lucifer choked out, his eyes stinging with unshed tears.

In his first five hundred years in Hell, he held out hope that Father would rescue him and bring him home, but as the millennium came to its end, that spark of hope was snuffed out. He often wondered if he truly meant so little to the Father he would have willingly died for, and that’s when the anger began. As opposed to grief, anger was easy. It was uncomplicated and singular, a source of strength, even. Anger stoked the fire inside him. Anger allowed him to bend Hell to his Will. Anger forged the Devil.

From whence his heart was made from porcelain, Hell had insured it turned into ivory then to stone. From whence he was created for love and beauty and art, Hell had insured he hardened into a wrathful devil, a ruthless punisher, and an unforgiving king. From whence he was known as the Bringer of Light, Hell had insured he become the Prince of Darkness. But that was the Devil, and lately, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be that for any longer. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be an angel either.

Just Lucifer would do.

Chloe’s Lucifer.

Lucifer who did not have celestial baggage.

Just Lucifer.

A small hand wiped the liquid from his face, and Lucifer was startled to find himself crying silently. “Do you know what I think, Lucifer?” Beatrice asked, and she retracted her hand from his face when she sensed his sheepishness.

Lucifer didn’t answer the pre-teen, opting to clean his face.

“I think you’re brave and good and honest,” Beatrice continued, smiling up at him. “If they don’t want you, I’ll be your family. Mom and I and Nana can be your new family. I promise we won’t leave you…”

“Thank you, spawn...I think I’d like that as well,” he sniffed, hands itching to smooth his usual vest but finding none. “You are too kind for this world, urchin, just like your mother.”

Beatrice hugged him tightly, murmuring a soft ‘you’re kind too’ in his neck.

As Beatrice wrapped her arms around his neck, he could not help the warm feeling that spread inside him. Was it possible that this human child and her miracle mother were somehow able to heal his damaged soul? Could Beatrice’s admiration and Chloe’s love add to his ripped edges and knit him back together from the inside out?

“You could be my step-dad, you know,” the small human proposed. “After you find mom, of course.”

Lucifer sputtered out, “What?! Step-da—”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot you’re not human…um, step-devil’s better, I think,” Beatrice corrected, oblivious to Lucifer’s shock. “Or what about step-satan? That’s good too!”

Step-dad? Step-devil? Step-satan? Apart from the initial shock, Lucifer was not as opposed to the idea as he thought he would be. At this rate, the child might as well be his offspring. He wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her, and wasn’t that the first thing parents promised their children? However open he was to the idea of being the urchin’s step-satan, as she fondly suggested, he was still anxious that he would fail her somehow like he failed her mother.

Lucifer coughed, “Child, I think this is a discussion more suitable for when your mother is here.”

Beatrice hummed. “Whatever you say, Lucifer.” Then she pulled back from the hug, looking at him seriously. “Can I tell you a secret, though?”

Lucifer nodded. “Your secret’s safe with me, urchin,” he said, zipping his mouth.

Beatrice giggled, covering her mouth demurely as she did so. She whispered conspiratorially, “Okay, so…I think your Dad’s a mother flunker!”

Lucifer squawked an undignified, “Beatrice!” Then he checked the night sky for any signs of thunder and lightning, fearing that His Father would smite the child for daring to speak against Him. Uzzah had been smote for something Lucifer considered much less. ("It was just a stupid throne, Dad," Lucifer had argued. "The Ark of the Covenant isn’t even half as magnificent as Your Heavenly Throne." Not that his meddling made Uzzah a little less smote and a little more alive.) 

“He is a tick! He can go to shell!” She grinned, proud and defiant, just as Lucifer himself had when he successfully proved to his Father that David was no better than Saul and any other sinner because he had taken the married Bathsheba after seeing her bathing and sent her husband Uriah to the front lines to die in order to conceal his adultery. God had been furious with the appointed King then, going so far as to let the child conceived from the adultery to perish. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.

Lucifer roared with laughter. “My, my, child, you are impervious as you are brave. I don’t think Joan of Arc was half as bold as you are, standing up for me like that against dear old Dad, who—let us not forget—is slightly almighty. Thank you.” The urchin was human, but she had Lucifer’s rebelliousness and Maze’s disregard for personal safety.  
Beatrice patted his cheek lightly. “You’re welcome,” she smiled, glad to have lightened up his mood. She’d been sad for him, almost cried herself, and she wondered if Maze’s hell-forged blades could harm God. She didn’t think so.

Beatrice reached out to touch his hair, and to her surprise, Lucifer didn’t lean away. “Let your hair grow again, Lucifer, please,” she pleaded. “When you find mom, you can cut it again if she doesn’t like it. But I really, really, really, think she’d like it.”

Lucifer sighed. He couldn’t say no to those eyes, Dad damn it! “Very well, but if I do this, you must promise me you’d pray to Samael when you’re in danger,” he replied, reiterating his previous advice, thinking that she had forgotten what he said in the excitement that followed, brought about by seeing his wings. “Deal?”

Beatrice rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes, I remember. I promise to pray to Samael,” she parroted. “And deal!” She stuck out her hand for a shake to make things “official,” and Lucifer indulged her.

“You do realize, child, that you are making a deal with the Devil, right?” He asked in jest. It’s not like making a deal with him damned a human. Besides, Beatrice knew a guy, who so happened to be the King of Hell, and a demon, who would do anything for her.

Beatrice snorted. “It’s not like this is the first time. We had a deal before, remember? When I promised to go with you to that weird school, and in exchange, you let me drive your car.”

Lucifer winced at the memory. His beloved Corvette would have suffered a terrible gash if it wasn’t for his quick reflexes. “Right.”

He stood up, brushing sand from his pants. “Come on then, child, I’ll take you home. I think it’s past your scheduled sleep.”

As both devil and child walked towards the backdoor entrance of Penelope’s beach house, Beatrice took Lucifer’s left hand in hers, which the Morningstar found agreeable.

“Ah, urchin, I have got a few substitute swear words for you to add to your list,” Lucifer began as he swung his coat over his broad shoulder. “The words “Shitake” and “bullfrog” aren’t as nefarious as your load of frappe, but if you’re feeling extra naughty, feel free to use “asparagus.” Just make sure to elongate the first syllable.”  
“Oh, by the way, you didn’t learn any of this from me,” he added. Chloe Decker would murder him for teaching her daughter some more loophole swear words, but he just couldn’t resist!  
Beatrice nodded. “Agreed,” she said, zipping her mouth just as he had earlier. Yes, he did not doubt that the little deviant was half-raised by a Lilim.

Just as he deposited the child back to her grandmother’s house, Lucifer received an urgent text from Ms. Lopez, stating that Klumpsky’s accounts regarding the deaths of the other victims did not match, so she suspected that there was another killer. Klumpsky had no connection to Dianne Luna and the others who were murdered in a similar fashion outside of Los Angeles.

But his thoughts had only centered on one person alone—Chloe. She might not be unreachable, after all! Looking around to make sure no human could see him, he called forth his wings then flew towards the precinct. It took him less than a second to arrive at the back of the station, careful to hide his wings in a different plane before venturing towards the building.

Usually, the officers were scarce when it was nearing midnight, but apparently, tonight was an exception. Chloe Decker was taken, and perhaps they felt remorse for making her a pariah in the department after Palmetto, so the bullpen buzzed with activity.

Everyone looked at him strangely, though. At first, he attributed the strange looks he had gotten due to the ongoing investigation of Chloe’s disappearance, but he soon realized it was because of the way he looked. After all, he was not his usual dashing and debonair self after hanging out with Beatrice at the beach. His hair was a mess of curls and his suit jacket was missing, ditched in the Corvette along with his silver whiskey flask. His shirt was rolled up to his elbows, and he was pretty sure that his charcoal black pants still sported some sand, which made him look like a bum. Fuck.

He paid them no mind. He was no mere mortal, he cared not for their deprecating opinions. So what if he looked like he hadn’t slept for Dad knew how long? So what if his hair wasn’t slicked back? So what if he was more irritated than usual? He did not come for them. He came for Chloe.

“Ms. Lopez!” He called as the cheery lab tech came out of her lab, holding a stack of envelopes. Files about the victims, no doubt.  
“Lucifer, you’re here!” She acknowledged, putting the files on Chloe’s desk. “That was fast…”

Lucifer shrugged, looking over the files. “I flew.” He hated paperwork, but he could make an exception for Chloe. Damn it, whoever invented this shit hopefully ended up in Hell. Why did these humans invent computers if they were still going to do paperwork? Invent robots that could handle these things already!

Lucifer spied the Newton’s cradle that he normally played with. He sighed. Even something that should generate kinetic energy was now wallowing in potential.

“Oh, I get it! You almost made the car fly!” Ms. Lopez chuckled, dismissing his words as a metaphor just like always.

“No, Ms. Lopez, I flew,” Lucifer grumbled, flipping over the pages. “What did you want to tell me?”

“Right. Listen, I’ve been thinking about the Whisper Killer case, and something isn’t adding up,” Ms. Lopez started, pointing towards the folders.  
Lucifer’s brows furrowed. “But Klumpsky confessed to everything,” Lucifer said, looking up from what he had been reading.

Ms. Lopez nodded. “Yes, but I can’t help but think something is off,” she continued, running her hands on the envelopes. Her eyes shot up, a smile spreading on her lips, and Lucifer knew she cracked the puzzle that she was trying to solve. “Serial Killers 101: serial killers often go for someone they know, and then branch out to strangers. Klumpsky had no connection to the first three victims, only the fourth, so it doesn’t make sense!”

“If only there was someone we could talk to,” Lucifer replied darkly, and Ms. Lopez inadvertently stepped back from the menace that she detected in his tone. For a moment, she thought she could see him as the actual Lucifer, but then she remembered his fanboying with Dan over Kimo Van Zandt, who was the Weaponizer. Lucifer Morningstar was not the actual Lucifer. The actual Biblical Lucifer was fierce, and her co-worker Lucifer was a giant teddy bear.

In the dimly lit cell, Klumpsky was reading the L.A. Telegraph when they came upon him. “The Whisper Killer? This doesn’t make sense!” He scoffed haughtily, offended at the moniker that was given to him by the public. “I don’t kill whispers!”

Then he stood up, throwing the newspaper on the floor, back ramrod straight. “I have a list of far superior names I would like you to submit to the editor,” Klumpsky demanded. Not that Lucifer and Ms. Lopez were inclined to fulfill his order, but if Lucifer knew something, it was making deals.

“Well, Mr. Killer, I may be persuaded to forward your message if you answer our questions. Deal?” Lucifer proposed, moving closer to the bars that separated the jailed from the jailer when Klumpsky agreed.

Klumpsky was tall, only slightly shorter than Lucifer himself, but there could be no mistaking the madness that hid behind his eyes and the presence of a cruel tilt on his asymmetrical mouth. He felt no remorse whatsoever for the murders that he committed and planned to commit. He was proud of his kill, and it was times like this that Lucifer wished he could drag a human to Hell even though the soul hadn’t crossed the threshold from life to death. Klumpsky was scum, and the human justice system would not be enough to make him penitent.

“You know, I once ate someone’s kidney in front of them,” Klumpsky bragged, and what he hoped to achieve with that, Lucifer didn’t know.

Ms. Lopez shook her head. “How did you target Olivia Sacks?” Just like that, the trap had been set.

A flash of surprise appeared in Klumpsky’s eyes, but it was gone as soon as it came. Unfortunately for Klumpsky, Lucifer caught this moment of weakness, a slight chink in the bald man’s armor. Even the best of armors could give when hit in the same place repeatedly.

In the middle ages, knights died all the time in tourneys because of their damaged armor. Lucifer once knew a knight who participated in a joust. In the first tilt, he had been hit square in the chest with the blunted lance, but he managed to remain on his horse. On the second tilt, he had been hit in the chest once more, and the armor gave, crumpling like paper as the lance collided with it. His ribs were crushed. It was a pretty agonizing death, not unlike that of Henry II of France, who died due to a lance that went through his visor and into his eye.

Klumpsky may hide himself behind an uncaring, monstrous façade, but he had been caught off guard with the question, and he was still human. They had him.

Klumpsky huffed out a laugh. “Ha, Olivia! Well, I followed her home one night. San Antonio is a nice town for stalking.”

At the corner of his eye, Lucifer saw Ms. Lopez hide a smirk before she feigned a stutter as though she got her information mixed up. “I-I…you know, I’m—I’m sorry, it was Phoenix. Olivia was in Phoenix, right?”

Klumpsky licked his lips, disgusting Lucifer and Ms. Lopez more than they already were. “Right. Sorry, my victims kind of blend together after a while.” Lucifer almost snorted then and there, but he stopped himself before he could. They needed Klumpsky to fail in order to prove there was another killer out and about.

Undeterred, Ms. Lopez pushed. “But why did you move her body?”

Again, Klumpsky appeared nonchalant, but Lucifer could see the clenching of his knuckles, no doubt forcing himself to keep his cool. “I like to switch things up, keep you guys guessing…”

Ms. Lopez tapped her notepad, shaking her head. “Ah, I see a…oh, you know what? I’m sorry, I messed up again. It was Joy Goodman’s body that you moved, not Olivia’s. But you would know that, right?”

At last, Klumpsky caught up with their ruse, but it was too late. They had him. “What is the meaning of this?” He demanded, even though he was in no position to make demands. “Are you trying to trip me up? I think it’s time for my lawyer.”

“Enough,” Lucifer bellowed, and Klumpsky stumbled back in fear. The man’s earlier nonchalance melted away to reveal encompassing fear of the Devil in front of him as if remembering the confrontation in his almost victim’s unit.

“Don’t do anything you might regret later, Lucifer,” Ms. Lopez warned, her heart pounding in her chest. A tremor of fear cut through her at the consultant’s display of authority, but she reminded herself that Lucifer Morningstar would never hurt her. She was his friend. Oh, Chloe’s kidnapper would find that kidnapping Lucifer’s detective was the worst thing he or she could have ever done.

“Not to worry, Ms. Lopez. I promise Klumpsky will remain physically unharmed,” Lucifer assured, and Ms. Lopez found this colder Lucifer to be more terrifying than the furious and roaring Lucifer. “Be a dear and call Maze, would you? Ask her to come here. Immediately.”

Ms. Lopez tucked the pad in her pocket. “Got it, buddy.” Then she rushed out of the brig. Lucifer hadn’t promised Klumpsky’s overall safety, only specifying that the latter would be physically unharmed, and she knew he was big on semantics. If Lucifer was going to do his freaky mentalist thing on Klumpsky, she didn’t want to witness it. She’d seen how suspects cowered after being interrogated by him, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t because of his desire mojo.

Still, Klumpsky should be thankful that Maze wasn’t the one who would interrogate him. The badass, leather-clad woman would have taken a hand at the very least if she suspected he had anything to do with Chloe’s kidnapping. Scratch that, Maze would have taken a body part even without suspecting that Klumpsky knew something about Chloe’s abduction.

Lucifer gripped the bars, bending them effortlessly, and Klumpsky’s eyes widened in fear. _Good_ , Lucifer thought, _let him feel helpless like his victims had_. The lock of the cell clicked open, and Lucifer strode inside. Klumpsky cowered at the corner, seeking to flee from the Devil, but the walls prevented his escape. The hunter was being hunted.

“Klumpsky boo, oh, Klumpsky,” Lucifer cooed, shutting the cell behind him. “Tell me, what do you desire, hm?”

Klumpsky’s mind went blank. He was caught in Lucifer’s thrall. “I-I want…I want to be better than…than LilyMan85.”

“Oh? And who is this LilyMan85?” Lucifer inquired, crouching in front of the murderous human.

Klumpsky shook his head, breaking eye contact with the fallen angel, then proceeded to crawl away. “Get away from me,” he begged, quivering in fear.

Lucifer lost whatever control he had left. “Stop!” He commanded, and Klumpsky halted his “escape.” Lucifer was breaching Klumpsky’s free will, but he couldn’t care less. He needed those answers, and if using Command was the only way to get Klumpsky to talk, then to hell with free will. Chloe was his priority. Always.

The lights flickered before shutting off. “Who is LilyMan85? Answer me!” His eyes flared, scarlet replacing the deep brown. He could feel his control slipping, his angelic form slowly melting away, but in the darkness of the cell, the scarred visage was undetectable, at least to human eyes. His eyes with hellfire swirling inside them were a beacon of madness, especially in the dark. “Answer me!”

“H-He’s…m-my ref-reference. He is the o-original,” Klumpsky stuttered, still unable to move.

Lucifer stepped back from the terrified man, who began shaking like a leaf. “Where can I find this LilyMan85?”

Klumpsky swallowed his fear to answer. “I-I…we have had conversations on the dark web, on KillShare, but I hadn’t met him personally. Please, d-don’t kill me,” he pleaded, and if he could move, he would have bowed to the consultant.

Lucifer smiled. “Oh, Klumpsky, you’re going to wish that’s all I did to you,” he purred, the same words that he once uttered to Jimmy Barnes rolling off of his tongue. The lights glowed, showing his Devil face to Klumpsky, petrifying the “Whisper Killer” even more. Unable to run, Klumpsky screamed as he held Lucifer’s gaze, witnessing the fate that awaited him in Hell once he passed. An eternity of suffering for a man who thought he could play God by taking the lives of the innocent. Justice had been served.

No officer questioned Lucifer as he left Klumpsky wailing in his cell. They all knew that sinners tend to be petrified of their precinct’s self-proclaimed Devil, and besides, Klumpsky deserved it. After Malcolm Graham, after Marcus “The Sinnerman” Pierce, they would give no sympathy to a man who was not right in the head.

“Ms. Lopez,” Lucifer called, striding into Ella’s lab. “You were right. Our miscreant on custody didn’t kill the first three. There is another killer! Klumpsky admitted that he used someone as a reference for his killings.”

Ms. Lopez nodded. “He is a copycat, which means that whoever killed Dianne and the others is still out there!”

“Yes,” Lucifer agreed, “Klumpsky mentioned that he met with someone with a username of LilyMan85 on KillShare.”

Ms. Lopez was on her computer typing “KillShare” the moment it left Lucifer’s mouth. “All we have to do is coordinate with whoever developed KillShare and hope that they keep tabs on everything that happens on their site. By the way, Maze woul—”

“You do that, Ms, Lopez,” Lucifer waved,” I-I need some air. Call me.” He didn’t wait for Ms. Lopez to reply and raced up the stairs, two steps at a time. Something’s happening to him.

He was breathing hard, and cold sweat dripped on his back. He needed to get to Lux, and fast. Deciding to have someone pick the Corvette instead, he flew towards the penthouse, landing ungracefully on the balcony. Something was wrong with him. His insides were burning.

He pulled his phone out to dial Doctor Linda, hoping that his therapist would pick up even though it was two in the morning. He hoped the little Nephilim was still awake and bothering his parents, so the good doctor would choose to answer his call and leave Charlie to his elder brother.

“Lucifer?” Dr. Linda answered. “Why are you calling…it’s two in the morning!” In the background, he could hear the little half-angel crying. If he weren’t in so much agony, he would have thanked his nephew.

“Doctor! I-I don’t feel so good,” Lucifer admitted as he felt fire crawl up his spine. “I don’t want to be a mons—monster!” Not again, he didn’t say. 

“Okay, Lucifer, I need you to breathe,” Dr. Martin instructed. She was sure he was having a panic attack. “I need you to calm down, alright? Breathe.”

Lucifer choked out, “I can’t!”

He felt as though his soul was being ripped in two, not unlike the feeling of burning through three different planes. He gritted his teeth, concentrating on the pain, and he braced himself on the Italian settee. Sweat dripped from his forehead, and he would have been disgusted had it not been for the sudden bursting of his wings. His wings quivered as pain wracked his body.

This wasn’t angelic self-actualization at work. This was bloody punishment from dear old Dad. “If You dislike my meddling, my taking of Klumpsky’s free will, You should have smote me before I infringed on his choice!” He shouted through the pain, glaring defiantly at the heavens. “If You think You can make me bend by torturing me, Father, then I am afraid that You are sorely mistaken! I will not grovel for Your mercy!” _I wish you heard that, Detective_ , he thought, _for you, I would ruin myself a million little times._

His eyes rolled back to his head and his body went slack, then…then there was only silence. For a brief moment, there was silence, but it was gone as fast it came. Lucifer roared, but instead of his usual petrifying crimson gaze, his eyes shone like beaten gold.

—

Dr. Linda tried again. “Lucifer—” But she was cut off with an inhuman scream followed by the sound of Lucifer dropping his phone. “Lucifer! Lucifer!” Was he injured? Crap. Still not that kind of doctor! Oh, these celestials…

She turned towards Amenadiel who held the wide-eyed Charlie. The Nephilim stopped his wailing as soon as his mother shouted his uncle’s name. “Amenadiel,” Linda began, worry etched on her features. “That was—”

Amenadiel’s eyes went wide as if something big had happened. He looked around him, then as if a bulb went off in his head, his mouth hung open. “Samael,” he whispered, handing Charlie off to Linda. “I need to check on Lucifer.”

“W-What’s happened? Why would you call him Samael?” Linda asked, worried not just for her patient and friend but also the whole world. The last time Amenadiel had seemed perturbed, it had involved demons on Earth. “You know Lucifer hates that name.”

“I know he hates Samael, but there was a…shift,” Amenadiel explained, trying his best to translate it to human terms. “The cosmos—it shifted, and it involved Samael.”  
Linda hugged Charlie closer to her chest. “Wha—but how do you know? How do you know it’s not Michael?”

Amenadiel shook his head. “No, it’s definitely not Michael. I would have been able to tell. Besides, the stars…they celebrate. Look, Linda, I have to go to my brother’s. I’ll try to explain everything later.” Then he was gone in a flash of gray feathers.

The stars were celebrating? What? Linda needed a really strong liquor for yet another celestial debacle that she would undoubtedly face.

As soon as Amenadiel landed on Lucifer’s balcony, the sight that greeted him was unusual in and of itself. Lucifer was a creature of order, ironic though it was. His things had to be arranged in a certain way, and if he were human, he would have been diagnosed with something called Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. His magpie of a brother’s penthouse was usually bedecked with priceless artifacts and shiny things arranged neatly, but now it was a mess of priceless artifacts and shiny things.

But as he wandered into his brother’s bedroom, his eyes widened in shock. There, near the foot of the bed, stood Lucifer. “Luci—”

Lucifer turned to him then, and Amenadiel could have sworn a shiver ran down his spine. The sight of his brother both terrified him and made him want to cry in joy with equal measure. His youngest brother’s eyes glowed gold just like it had before he fell, but what truly rendered him speechless was the sight of pure light on his brother’s palms. The Light. Samael’s gift from Father, which convinced all of Heaven that he was Father’s favorite son.

“Amenadiel, Fury of God,” Samael greeted, “Meni.”

Longing to pull his brother in a hug, Amenadiel rasped, “Sam…”

As God’s eldest son, he had been prideful and jealous of the Lightbringer, never bothering to spend time with him and Michael. Perhaps if he’d been a better brother, Samael would not have fallen. Oh, the thought occurred to him countless times throughout the eons that had come and gone, but he always dismissed it. It wasn’t his fault that Samael was rebellious. It wasn’t his fault that his brother was suffering. But he was wrong. All of Heaven was wrong.

Staying on earth with Lucifer these past few years had opened his eyes. Perhaps that was Father’s plan all along—for the Eldest to learn from his youngest brother, for him to learn humility, humanity, sacrifice, and love. Losing his wings had humbled him, and if he could persuade the others of Lucifer’s kindness and gentleness, then maybe he could end the great divide between the angels. Some of his siblings were convinced that Lucifer should not be welcomed back into the Silver City because he would only start another rebellion. But Azrael led the opposition, certain in her favorite brother’s goodness.

Amenadiel wished he had been more like Azrael to Lucifer before the Fall.

He had been so jealous of Samael that he had readily forgotten the joy that the brightest had brought with him to Heaven and willingly condemned him to his fate in Hell. He was foolish to tell himself that his brother was evil to alleviate the guilt he felt. But his little brother wasn’t evil. He’d never been evil. He was annoying, childish, brash, loud, headstrong, but he wasn’t evil.

His brother was glowing. An ethereal, otherworldly glow shrouded his body like a herald of peace and everything good. But the gold in Lucifer’s eyes slowly petered out, the light on his palms dimming, and he crumpled on the ground.

Amenadiel ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you catch my Star Wars reference? Anyhow, sorry for the late update...last week, I was flooded with school works as well as org events. Hope you enjoyed this one! Merry Christmas!


	7. No Cosmic Lover Preassigned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You think that luck has left you there. Well, maybe there’s nothing up in the sky but air. And there’s no mystical design, no cosmic lover preassigned. There’s nothing you can find that cannot be found.” Wicked Little Town (Reprise) sung by Tommy Gnosis in Hedwig and the Angry Inch

Lucifer was in Lux, disheveled, belting out a song to convey his heartbreak. Behind the flashing lights, the inebriated audience, and his brokenness, there was only one conscious thought running in his mind: he’d been here before. He’d lived this when Chloe had fled to Europe after seeing his Devil face. He’d lived this after he killed Pierce with a single stab of one of Maze’s hell-forged blades.

As if on cue, the song had started, but he wasn’t the one singing it, although it was his voice that reverberated around the club, sad and hopeful at the same time. He’d lived this. He was done living this—this hell!

_When you were here before_

_“Lucifer,” Chloe called, dashing down the stairs, clutching her LAPD-issued gun while Lucifer crouched beside Pierce’s dead body._

_Couldn’t look you in the eye_

_He’d turned around, smiling at her, not knowing that his angelic visage had turned into a monstrous one. “It’s true, it’s all true,” she’d murmured absently, stumbling at one of the steps, too fearful to register anything else._

_You’re just like an angel_

_“You’re not the Devil. Not to me,” she’d whispered to him before kissing him softly, like a touch of Heaven in Hell, taking away all of his doubts and fears._

_Your skin makes me cry_

_“It’s true, it’s all true,” she’d murmured absently, stumbling at one of the steps, too fearful to register anything else. Then he’s spiraling, falling and falling._

A shaft of light, a flash of honey blonde hair. “Chloe!” He tried to reach a hand out to her, but his hand remained glued to the piano keys. She was gone long before his hand ever touched her. As she walked away from him, he moved to follow her, but his feet stayed rooted where he sat. “Chloe, please!”

_She’s running out again_

The light went with Chloe, so he was left in the suffocating darkness with nothing but his Steinway for company. “Chloe!” He’d shouted to no avail. “Chloe, don’t leave!” _Please!_

_She’s running out again_

Lucifer gasped awake, Amenadiel’s face staring into view. “Luci!” The elder celestial had exclaimed, tapping the Devil’s cheeks. “You’re okay!” For a moment, the Eldest thought God had finally lost his patience with the rebel, taking his soul away just as He had with His other creations. Why else would Lucifer have regressed into Samael?

Lucifer swatted his brother’s hand from his cheek, scooting away from the Eldest. “Brother? What are you doing here?” The last thing he remembered was the great pain that made him fold like a piece of paper.

“How did I get to my bed?” He asked, testing his sore limbs. He recalled nearly crashing through the glass divider on his balcony, only righting himself at the last second, and stumbling through the penthouse, no doubt wreaking havoc on his leather settee. Damn it, that was Italian. “Oh no, please don’t tell me that you carried me in your arms like a baby.”

Amenadiel smiled indulgently. “Then I won’t.” Lucifer rolled his eyes. That was rhetoric. Leave it to his brother to take everything seriously. “What happened to you, brother?”

Amenadiel’s concern for his wellbeing was something Lucifer still had to get used to. Eons of fighting with his eldest brother still made him wary of Amenadiel’s intention at times.

He just woke up from what he thought was a nightmare, and here his brother was, badgering him for information. For Dad’s sake, give a Devil a moment’s rest! “For the record, I want you to know that on the list of things I’d like to wake up to, your face falls somewhere after a horse’s head and Coldplay tickets. Please refrain from standing over me again whilst I am sleeping, thank you.”

“Yes, I know,” Amenadiel replied, remembering their conversation when Lucifer refused to sleep because of a so-called angel that was seen flying at night, saving lives. “But, Luci, you’re deflecting.”

“Spending too much time with my therapist, are we?” At Amenadiel’s glare, he sobered up. Amenadiel’s display of superiority had not kept him from snorting derisively, though. “Deflecting? Me? Please, brother, I’m not human.” Being human was not a bad thing, per se, but he had to say something scathing to salvage a bit of his reputation.

Amenadiel crossed his arms, more amused than angry at his brother’s clear equivocation. Lucifer did not lie, but he had a habit of lying to himself, albeit unknowingly. When it came to feelings, his brother was not, as the humans would say, the sharpest tool in the shed. “And that is denial.”

How could Linda take Lucifer on as a patient for, like, what? Three years? Four? His brother’s denseness surely infuriated even the good doctor, although, he supposed, she was trained to handle such cases. In truth, he was amazed at his brother’s progress. He was proud of Lucifer, which was kind of strange to admit to himself. After all, he had spent millennia chasing his brother back to Hell, never bothering for pleasantries.

It was spectacular how much Lucifer had grown under Linda’s careful tutelage, though the therapist had confided in him that his brother had the uncanny ability to take things out of proportion, but she wouldn’t specify what those “things” were. Patient-Doctor confidentiality and all that.

Lucifer pushed himself up, his arms shaking at the effort. Amenadiel had not commented on his brother’s apparent weakness even though he would have loved nothing more than to help. He knew Lucifer hated to be seen as weak. “Now, that is a river in Africa,” Lucifer quipped without missing a beat, though Uriel’s mocking voice rang in his head.

_One joke down. One to go. Why can’t you take anything seriously, Lucifer?_

Amenadiel closed his eyes in exasperation. Lucifer really was the most annoying being in all the multiverse, especially when he’s trying his best to hide. He breathed, “Luci—”

Lucifer raised his arms. “Alright! Alright!” He acquiesced, holding back a laugh at Amenadiel’s ridiculous answer-me-properly-because-I’m-being-patient-with-you face.

“Well, if you must know, brother,” Lucifer started, running a hand down on his face. “I was at the precinct, trying to find a lead on the Detective’s kidnapping when I was overcome with such pain.” And what a pain it was! The last time he felt something similar was when he fell and then burned through the three planes of existence. He could not deny that the experience made some of his more unpleasant memories to resurface. Now, this would explain the nightmare that he just had. Perhaps there was some truth to Doctor Linda’s theory of him having something called Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Amenadiel’s brows furrowed. “Chloe’s been kidnapped?”

Lucifer sighed. He had forgotten to update his brother on the current state of things as the Eldest was too busy attending to his needy offspring. “Yes, brother, Chloe’s been kidnapped, we’re currently hunting a second serial killer, who, I think, knows something about the Detective’s abduction, or at least I hope so, and, as you can see, I’m a God-damned mess. Quite literally, if I may add.”

Lucifer clapped, perking up as if he saw a vending machine that’s full of cool ranch puffs. “Oh, and Daniel shot me, but I didn’t die even though the Detective was near. Apparently, the Douche saw my Devil face when we were trying to calm your screaming Nephilim.”

If Amenadiel wasn’t immortal, he would wonder if he was beginning to have a migraine. Perhaps celestial migraine was not unheard of because he was sure that was the only plausible explanation for the dull throbbing ache in his head. “Dan knows and he tried to kill you, but you didn’t die when he shot you even though Chloe was near?”

Lucifer groaned, covering his eyes with his arm. “Why are you repeating everything I say? Are you daft?” Really, it was not that hard to understand. For Dad’s sake, it was English, and Amenadiel had been around since, well, the beginning of time, actually. English was the easiest human language to master, damn it! It was quite sad how he got all the brains and the looks in the family. His siblings wouldn’t be able to tell a Viceroy butterfly from a Monarch butterfly if the latter mimicked the other in front of their eyes.

Amenadiel shook his head. “Do you even know what this means, brother?” Oh, bloody hell no! Not this talk about God’s tests again!

“That I am a magnet of bad tidings because every bad thing that I can think of that could possibly happen to me has actually happened to me? Oh, and that it cannot be a coincidence because those aren’t real, so it can only be, of course, the work of our megalomaniacal, over-bearing Father?”

Amenadiel thought for a second, blinking owlishly at his brother before replying. “Well, yes,” he agreed, “but you don’t know that it’s Father’s doing, Luci, but if it is, you know the saying…Father works in—”

Lucifer glared at his elder brother, longing to throttle the angelic fool. “If you say “mysterious ways,” brother, don’t think I forgot what I told you at Doctor Linda’s house—I will not hesitate to punch you in your “mysterious ways.” So come on, I dare you,” Lucifer muttered darkly, eyes flashing red, his earlier exhaustion bleeding out of his tall frame.

He was done with Amenadiel excusing their Father’s actions time and time again. Yes, he had disobeyed God, but he’d been punished long enough in Hell. For eons he had withstood the harshness of Hell, carrying out his punishment diligently, but not anymore. He was a master of punishment, and he didn’t think he deserved to be punished any longer. He’d changed, even he could admit that to himself.

_Why do you hate me so, Father?_

Hellfire licked his arms as anger towards the Detective’s kidnapping and the recent millennia he’d spent in Hell surfaced, consuming him wholly and irrevocably.

_Do you like seeing me suffer?_

Amenadiel staggered back, overwhelmed by the smell of fire and brimstone that pervaded the penthouse when Lucifer unknowingly summoned hellfire. Earlier, he had witnessed his brother regress into Samael, and now Lucifer had become the Devil. It was terrifying as it was fascinating to be in front of this being who, if given the right motivation, would challenge God and be determined enough to win it.

In the beginning, Michael and Samael were two halves of a whole. They complemented each other and were the most powerful angels. The twin sons of God and Goddess. They were the Demiurge. With Michael’s betrayal, Samael’s soul had become frayed at the edges, and Heaven thought his soul would never recover. But they had underestimated their brother. They had underestimated Samael. They all thought their brother would be destroyed in Hell, and though they could not bring themselves to help, they could not avert their attention from the Lightbringer’s journey.

Samael was a creature of Light, and Hell was of the Dark. Heaven knew that there were only two possible outcomes when Samael landed in Hell. Either Samael would change Hell for the better as he did with Heaven, or he would be swallowed altogether by the darkness. They’d watched with rapt attention, knowing that their brother would lose because Hell was a plane of existence, and only God could change the way it operated. They’d seen how the flickering source of light had dimmed altogether, had become one with the darkness that surrounded it. Samael was lost. Or so they had thought.

In the beginning, Michael and Samael were two halves of a whole, but with Michael’s betrayal, Samael’s soul had become frayed at the edges. But from whence he needed Michael to complement him, to complete him, his Fall had taught him to rely on no one but himself. So the creature of the Light was forged in the Dark, stronger than he had been before. The Lightbringer had also become the Prince of Darkness.

Amenadiel was wrong. When Lucifer became the Prince of Darkness, the Lightbringer did not cease to exist. Samael had merely become dormant. When he fell, he needed someone to complete him, and with Michael out of reach, he must have Willed his soul to completion, and Hell had answered. Lucifer was Hell’s gift to Samael. Lucifer had been fashioned to fill the emptiness, and over time, they merged into one. Samael was reckless and trustful, and though Lucifer still jumped headfirst into things, he had already known punishment and suffering, and so he learned caution.

Looking at Lucifer, seeing some of Samael’s traits in him, sometimes made his heart quake at the thought of the brother he thought he’d lost. But Lucifer didn’t replace Samael. Lucifer was an extension of Samael the same way Samael was an extension of Lucifer. Samael and Lucifer were a dyad. How ironic was it that God’s rebellious son was the most like Him even in personality, for God had three persons, and the Devil had two. 

Michael thought himself to be the more superior twin. After all, the Dark was all-consuming. But it was now obvious that Samael had learned to thrive in the Dark, and though living in it had hidden his Light, Amenadiel now understood that it made his youngest brother more like God than any of them could ever be. Lucifer understood the importance of gray, of something more than good or evil. The Eldest felt foolish for believing Michael’s lies for as long as he had.

Lucifer wasn’t evil.

This grayness had made Lucifer be something more than an angel. He wasn’t detached. He understood the value of mortality more than any of them. He understood humans the best. He had the wisdom to determine those who ended up in Hell but didn’t actually deserve Hell. He was also like Father in that way. Perhaps bringing out people’s desires was not that different from harvesting potential. After all, a desire was the base for cultivating and maximizing potential.

 _Father had foreseen this,_ Amenadiel realized. _Father had foreseen Samael’s fall._

“Lucifer,” Amenadiel conceded, raising both his arms. “Brother, I didn’t mean to invalidate your opinion. I apologize.”

Lucifer advanced on Amenadiel as if he had not heard his brother speak.

Amenadiel tried again. “Peace, Lucifer, brother,” Amenadiel called, moving away from the angry Devil. Hellfire would surely mar his skin if it touched him. “I apologize, brother, you were right. It isn’t right to excuse Father’s actions, or lack thereof, and attribute it to His grand plans because you were hurt. And Chloe might be too. I’m sorry.”

“Snap out of it, brother,” Amenadiel pleaded, shifting into a fighting stance. He didn’t want to fight Lucifer, but he would if he had to, if only to defend himself. Lucifer was powerful, and Amenadiel didn’t think he would win against his brother if he was forced to fight him. They’d fought before, but Lucifer never really tried to fight back. “Lucifer!” But instead of the Devil’s usually dark brown eyes, Lucifer’s eyes were the fiery orbs that housed hellfire in them.

A fiery hand swiped at his face, faster than light, and Amenadiel found himself closing his eyes, unable to dodge. But the blow never came. “Amenadiel…what— oh bollocks!” Lucifer cursed, looking at his hands, fascinated, eyes back to their usual hue. “My hands are on bloody fire, brother! Hellfire!”

Lucifer blew on his hands in a faux attempt to put off the fire. Not that it would have worked because it was a fire of a different sort. Hellfire. And Lucifer knew one could not put out hellfire with mere air nor water. “What the? Is there an off button for this thing?” Lucifer asked, looking questioningly at his elder brother as if Amenadiel held the answer.

Almost being burned by hellfire forgotten, Amenadiel shrugged. “Don’t ask me, brother, I’ve never seen you do that before.” He’d seen Samael do it with the Light, but he’d never seen Lucifer do it with hellfire. “Just because I discovered that we angels self-actualize doesn’t mean that I’ll know the answer to all of your questions, Luci!”

Lucifer scoffed. “You’re the bookworm, remember?” He closed his fists, envisioning his hands without the fire. The hellfire remained. “It doesn’t work! How can I go to the precinct looking like I’m the bloody Ghost Rider?” He shook his hands, hoping for the fire to burn out. It didn’t. How was he supposed to help find the Detective like this?

“Luci,” Amenadiel laughed, “you’re not going to be able to put it off like that!” Lucifer’s eyes briefly flashed red, and Amenadiel remembered the earlier incident when his brother was on a warpath. Yeah, better let sleeping dragons lie.

Amenadiel cleared his throat. “Brother, I think I might have an idea,” Amenadiel began, eyeing the panicking Lucifer. “You used to manipulate Light like this, don’t you remember? The _material_ may have changed, but the basic component didn’t. Hellfire is still fire, and fire is of the Light. Luci, I think the process of extinguishing hellfire on your hands is no different than when you reabsorb the Light, or whatever it was that you used to do.”

“Amenadiel, that is a brilliant idea!” Lucifer praised, sporting a dashing smile on his face. He closed his eyes in concentration, face scrunching up a bit, and Amenadiel was transported back to the time when Samael used to practice his God-given gift in the Garden of Gold as a young fledgling. The little archangel’s wings used to flutter behind him whenever he tried his hands in containing the Light.

The hellfire slowly petered out just as the Light had earlier before Samael collapsed on the ground. Lucifer opened his eyes. “Well, I suppose that could come in handy,” he acknowledged, secretly liking this new development. Michael would find himself a little burnt the next time he tried to do something. “Though, I guess I could learn to control it better, avoid going away inside. Did I hit you? Oh, I wish I’d seen more of your face, brother! You looked quite scared of me when I came back. Now that is something I would have loved to witness.”

Amenadiel ignored his jab. “Luci, I’m sorry about earlier,” Amenadiel apologized, stepping closer to the Devil. “I didn’t mean to imply that it was alright for you to suffer. You were hurt, and Father should not have let you get hurt.”

Lucifer let out a self-deprecating laugh. “Oh, please, brother, when has Father ever cared for my wellbeing?” He strode to the bar, filling a glass tumbler with whiskey. “I mean, barring me from entering Heaven and throwing me into Hell should have been your first clue, but I’m not going to hold your failure to deduce against you, bro. I’ve accepted my role in our family: crafty, smart, and charming…”

Amenadiel chuckled. “That may be, Luci, but I don’t think all is what they seem. Be careful, brother. If you’re right, then I don’t think Father’s plan for you is finished.”

Lucifer sighed, running a hand in his messy hair. “That’s what Father Frank told me,” he whispered as if he didn’t want Amenadiel to hear what he said. Father Frank Lawrence’s death was still a sore spot for him. Leave it to The Almighty to take away his friend just as he was becoming used to the idea of having a friend who accepted him for who he truly was. “I just don’t get why humans think it’s a good plan. For all they know, Father is planning to damn them to Hell.” Amenadiel suspected that “humans” meant him with his constant preaching of God’s wonderful plan for His children, and “them” meant Lucifer.

“Jeremiah 29: 11. ‘For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future,’” Amenadiel quoted, which made Lucifer choke on his drink.

“Of all the verses you could have quoted from that book, brother, you chose that?” Lucifer sputtered out as Amenadiel clapped his back. “You do know that humans often misinterpret that verse, don’t you? They take it entirely out of its context. For one, Father had promised that to the nation of Israel, not to humans in general.”

“You read the Bible?” Amenadiel asked, wide-eyed. Who would have thought that his brother, who they all thought would rather cut off his wings than actually listen to God’s commandments, read the Bible?

Lucifer waved. “Yes, brother. I’m the Devil, but I’m not illiterate.” The Bible may seem like a load of mumbo jumbo, but most things in there have actually happened. Take the burning bush incident, for example. Lucifer had gone and scared the life out of Moses through a non-burning burning bush, which pushed Moses to start acting like a leader. He’d also been the fourth “man” beside Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in the fiery furnace. Not that he’d actually meant to be there, but what could he have done? Apparently, taking King Nebuchadnezzar II’s daughter out of wedlock warranted death by fire no matter how good-looking one was.

Amenadiel’s jaw had just about dropped. “You, Lucifer Morningstar, King of Hell, Master of Desire, you read the Bible?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Yes, great job, bro. I see you’ve been learning about emphasis. But yes, I have read the Bible.” He unbuttoned his shirt. “What can I say? It’s like a biography, but more entertaining. Not unlike Milton’s Paradise Lost.”

Lucifer continued, striding towards his bathroom to have a shower. “I personally liked the bit about Gabe showing up at Mary’s doorstep saying, ‘Do not be afraid, Mary, for You have found favor with God.’ Did you know he asked me for advice on what to wear?” Lucifer’s voice became muffled as he started to shower, and only Amenadiel’s celestial hearing allowed him to hear what Lucifer was saying. “They didn’t include it in the book, but I was sitting on the branch of a nearby tree, listening. It was quite boring, but Gabe and I had a lovely time catching up afterward. As it turned out, Michael had banned him from talking to me. Didn’t know that the Messenger had it in him to disobey the Sword, but who am I to judge that little rebellious act by our brother, right?”

Amenadiel frowned. “Gabe never told me that he’d met you.”

Lucifer snorted. “Of course, he hadn’t. You would have tattled on him to Michael, you big snitch. You weren’t fun then, Amenadiel, always so uptight.” There was a bit of shuffling before Lucifer added, “But for what it’s worth, I’m glad you decided to stay on earth, brother. You’ve become much more fun after you started indulging in human vices, although your taste in alcohol still leaves a lot to be desired. I mean, a Cosmopolitan? Seriously?”

“What? Cosmos are yummy!” Amenadiel defended. Bourbon was a little too strong for his tastes. A quick check on his phone told him that it was 6:00 in the morning. He’d been with Lucifer for almost four hours! Then Lucifer’s phone started ringing. “Luci, someone’s calling you!”

Lucifer rushed out of the shower, his lower body clad only in a towel. He had run to the living room in haste, lifting the leather settee with ease, fearing that he would miss an update from Ms. Lopez. Picking up the phone from the floor, he answered. “Damn it,” he muttered when he realized that he missed the call.

Not long after, Ms. Lopez sent a text, detailing how she’d gotten a lead from KillShare, someone named Scotty Thomas agreed to meet up in the Arts District. Thanking the forensic tech for the lead and asking to meet with her at the Arts District, he went to his walk-in closet.

Amenadiel coughed. “I guess, this is my cue to leave,” he said to no one in particular. Lucifer had forgotten him, it seemed. He had thought to tell Lucifer what had happened, of the Devil’s regression to Samael, but Lucifer was busy enough with Chloe missing, and Amenadiel didn’t want to distract him from his search. He only prayed that deciding not to tell Lucifer now would not come back to bite him. He did not like the feeling of being on the receiving end of the Devil’s wrath, and he would like to avoid a reenactment of that particular event, thank you! Shaking his head, he summoned his wings then disappeared in a flash of feathers. He hoped that Charlie was asleep.

—

“Ms. Lopez,” Lucifer nodded, making his way into the building where Scotty Thomas had agreed to meet.

“Lucifer, hold up!” Ms. Lopez ran after him, and he slowed his pace for her to catch up. “I didn’t ask for back-up, but what if this Scotty Thomas is the killer?”

Lucifer spared a glance at her, shrugging. “I can handle him, Ms. Lopez, be not afraid.”

He thought he had managed to calm Ms. Lopez, but just as they entered a particularly creepy hallway, all blank walls and metal doors, Ms. Lopez squeaked at a loud bang. “But, Lucifer, I’m a little out of my depth here,” she said, looking around the dimly lit hallway, distressed. Sure, she had been involved in a little B&E and stealing cars in her youth, but that was pretty tame compared to meeting a possible serial killer. She should have called for back-up, but damn it, Lucifer was persuasive. “I mean, I’m just a forensic scientist.” Perhaps he should have put a little Will behind his “be not afraid.”

Lucifer raised the rusty metal grille, ducking under it. Unlike the hallway that they entered, this particular shaft had bricks for walls and graffiti portraits to compensate for art. “Relax, Ms. Lopez,” Lucifer began, walking confidently like a king walking amongst his subjects like he was walking in the labyrinthine halls of Hell. “We’re just following a lead, not walking into a serial killer’s lair.”

Ms. Lopez skipped behind him, nervous energy radiating from her, which was like ice dragged all over his back. She was afraid, he realized. Utterly terrified. For all her joy and positivity, Ms. Lopez was afraid of death, hated it even. Well, death was not a ride in the park, and he wouldn’t recommend it to anyone.

The fear that reeked from her was annoying him, like the pinprick that humans feel whenever blood stopped circulating in a certain part of their body. He used to be unable to sense fear, but after the Fall, he had acquired the gift. It came with his new role as the embodiment of all evil. Unlike desire, fear was numbing, unpleasant in every way. That explained why Michael was, well, Michael.

“Yeah, but still, I mean, don’t you think we should loop in an actual detective?” Ms. Lopez queried, stopping beside Lucifer in front of two metal doors that were labeled, “213.”

Lucifer shook his head. “We don’t have time to brief someone new,” he said matter-of-factly. “Here it is.”

Ms. Lopez tried the door handle. “Crap, it’s locked,” she grunted, releasing the door handle. She had half a mind to use a hairpin, but she remembered that she wasn’t wearing any.

Lucifer moved in front of her. “Is it?” Then he put his hand on the handle, opening the door with ease.

“Weird,” Ms. Lopez murmured, “guess not.” She’d tried to open it, and it was locked. She was sure it was locked. But…never mind, not the time.

As the doors swung open, Ms. Lopez could not help the spiking of her heart rate. The sight that welcomed her and Lucifer was something out of Mary Shelley’s novel or a slasher film. She should have called for back-up.

In the middle of the room was an operating table, complete with a set of tools used for amputating, scraping infected tissues, and torture. Beside the table, there was a collection of metal trays filled with various bottles of unknown liquids. Anesthetics, probably. Chloroform, more likely.

“What was that about not walking into a killer’s lair?” Ms. Lopez shout-whispered, wary of making a sound, but Lucifer remained unfazed. Why wouldn’t he? He was invulnerable. Immortal. “Do you think Chloe’s here? Should we call for back-up?” In hindsight, Ms. Lopez should have called for back-up without asking for Lucifer’s approval, but fear clouded her judgment and she trusted Lucifer to make the right call.

“I’m all the back-up we need,” Lucifer informed her calmly, though his reply did not settle her nerves.

“But you’re just an actor!” Ms. Lopez retorted, breath coming out in short gasps. Sure, he had the desire thing that he could do, but this was different! They could die! They weren’t merely interrogating a witness, they were on to a potential serial killer, who, based on their current surroundings, was possibly armed!

A flushing sound came from an adjacent room, and Lucifer hid in the shadows. A man with long brown hair tucked into a ponytail emerged from what appeared to be the toilet, holding a newspaper and wearing square-framed glasses.

His humming stopped when he spotted Ms. Lopez, standing in shock. “Hey, what are you—” But Lucifer grabbed him from behind then dragged him to a patient’s chair. The man dropped his newspaper in favor of clutching Lucifer’s hands.

“Where is she?” Lucifer snarled, eyes a second away from flashing red. “If you killed her, I swear to Dad—”

The man whimpered. “Killed? Who are you?” He cried out, paling as Lucifer towered over him. “Why would you think I killed anyone?”

Lucifer barked out a cruel laugh, and Ms. Lopez shivered at the sound. “Oh, really? I wonder?” He mocked, pulling out a knife from the severing tools displayed. “I wonder!”

The man scooted away from Lucifer, but the chair and the Devil’s hand caged him. “The knife? The lobby? No, no, no!” He yelped, trying to push Lucifer’s hand away from his throat. “This is just for inspiration, I swear! No, we got it all from a Hollywood prop house that was going out of business!”

Lucifer’s grip on his collar loosened. “I use it to get my team on the right headspace,” he added quickly, glancing nervously at Lucifer.

Lucifer pulled the knife from his neck. “What team? What headspace?”

The man swallowed. “My nerd squad,” he said, breathing heavily. “We’re developing a virtual reality game where the user gets to be a serial killer.”

Lucifer huffed. “Humans, honestly!”

Ms. Lopez picked up a knife from the display, inspecting the blade. “Yeah, they’re all blunts,” she confirmed, “clearly props.” She had been startled at Lucifer’s display of not only strength but also darkness. Not that she held that against him. She’d had to remind himself that this was still Lucifer, and though she had been shaken, her fears were alleviated when he deflated. Lucifer was a good man, she realized when he let go of the man. He would never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve to be hurt on purpose, even in anger.

Lucifer dropped the prop knife. “Well, then, what use is this lead if this isn’t actually a lead?” He wondered, and Ms. Lopez suspected he was thinking out loud.

The man’s brows furrowed. “Lead?” He asked, and both the Devil and the lab tech looked at him. “Wait…lead? You two work with the cops?” Lucifer could understand his surprise. After all, Ms. Lopez was dressed in a t-shirt and jeans combo, and a gray denim jacket completed her ensemble while he was dressed in his three-piece Armani suit and black Louboutin’s. They weren’t exactly who one would expect worked for the police.

Ms. Lopez stepped forward. “Wait, are you Scotty Thomas?”

The man nodded. “Yes, I am,” he replied, standing from the chair he was haphazardly thrown on. “I was told that a detective will meet me here, but, as you are both aware, a detective never showed. I even printed the transcripts the LAPD asked for.” Ah, yes, that was Lucifer’s fault.

Lucifer leaned towards Scotty Thomas, and the man seemed to shrink in on himself, almost wetting his pants in the process. “Where are these transcripts?” Scotty pointed at the wall behind him. “Show me,” Lucifer commanded, although there wasn’t real Command behind his words, Scotty gulped before moving towards the wall. His fear of Lucifer driving him to obey.

The wall, as it turned out, was not actually a wall. It was a sliding metal door, designed to look like a wall. When Scotty slid the door open, a bunch of techs not unlike the LAPD’s own cyber greeted them. There were at least 12 people who were part of Scotty’s “nerd squad.” Like the hallway, the room’s walls were made of bricks, and there were three large bowling pins beside the glowing “Scotty Thomas Games.” 

“Sweet!” Ms. Lopez whistled, eyes wide in excitement. As a nerd herself, this was heaven. Well, not Heaven-Heaven, but still.

Scotty walked towards the main hub. “The LAPD reached out to me on KillShare,” he continued, turning on his computer.

“And what is this KillShare?” Lucifer asked, and Scotty visibly swallowed.

“KillShare is a dark web chat site for those interested in, well, killing,” Scotty explained, avoiding Lucifer’s penetrating gaze.

“Jeez!” Ms. Lopez declared. “There’s a site for everything.”

“We use it as research,” Scotty shrugged, opening KillShare on his computer. “The posts are anonymous and unmoderated. Anyone can post anything, and I mean anything. People have some pretty disturbing appetites.” Lucifer knew this already, having spent millennia in Hell.

“Appetites you’ll be encouraging with your serial killer game,” Lucifer bristled, putting his hands in his pockets.

Scotty raised his hands. “Whoa, hey, man. As long as they’re scratching that itch in VR, they’re not doing it in real life. The way I see it, I’m one of the good guys.” Then he started typing on his computer, showing both the Devil and the Latina his conversation with the LAPD. “The KillShare crowd isn’t exactly into working with law enforcement, but I offered to help.”

“Well, how exactly?” Lucifer asked, longing to speed up the process.

“Okay, so the LAPD requested that I track down a user on KillShare, a LilyMan85. See, KillShare DMs, they self-destruct, but I screencap everything so…” he pointed at the transcript. “Everything that’s in there is the transcript of the conversation between LilyMan85 and Les Klumpsky.”

Ms. Lopez checked the pile, scanning the texts. “Holy…” She looked up at Lucifer, who was watching her go through the papers. “All of LilyMan's posts are first-hand accounts of murders that match the Whisperer Killer's with deets that haven't even gone public yet.”

“This LilyMan is the original killer, the one that Klumpsky implied was still out there,” Lucifer asserted. “How do we find this LilyMan?”

“Well,” Ms. Lopez began, flipping through the transcript, “I can have cyber track the different IP addresses of his posts, but it’s going to take some time.”

Lucifer felt like ripping his hair out. “We don’t have time!” He seethed, and the lights flickered. He breathed to calm himself before he scared the humans in the room.

“Well, m-maybe you can use the nerd squad. They’re some of the best around,” Scotty piped up, chuckling nervously.

Ms. Lopez hugged him. “Thank you!” She smiled, and Lucifer nodded at the man in thanks.

Lucifer cleared his throat. “You two do what you have to, and I have a phone call to make. Then he retreated back to the dimly lit hallway, where no one could see him.”

Lucifer paced back and forth, holding his phone to his ear. “Pick up, Maze,” he muttered, closing his eyes. Maze refused to answer his call for the third time, and he lost his patience. Pocketing his phone, he closed his eyes. “Mazikeen,” he growled, rekindling his connection with his former right-hand demon. “Come to me, Mazikeen. Your King commands it.” He wasn’t her King anymore, not after he freed her from their contract, but she was still a demon, and he could not change the fact that God had granted him absolute authority over her kind.

“What the heck, Lucifer?” Maze snarled, appearing in the shadows behind him, twirling her hell-forged knives. “I’m not yours to command. Not anymore!”

Lucifer turned to her. “The Detective is missing, Mazikeen. I have to find her, and I need your help.”

“Chloe’s missing?” Maze asked, and Lucifer nodded. “Who—”

“I don’t know!” Lucifer shouted, eyes glowing red briefly. “I need you to go to the precinct and interrogate Klumpsky. Torture him, if you must but do not kill him. Find out whatever information you could on this LilyMan85.”

“And why would I do that, Lucifer? Why would I help you?” Maze boldly questioned, and though it wasn’t wise to agitate an already agitated Devil, well, living a dangerous life was kind of her jam. After all, she was a demon.

“Because…because,” Lucifer began, pinching his nose. “The Detective—she’s…important to me.”

“What about me, Lucifer? You abandoned me! You left me!” Maze raged, swiping one of her blades on the space beside her.

“And I’m sorry, Maze! I’m sorry I left you. I’m sorry for infringing on your free will. I thought you’d rather stay here,” Lucifer breathed. He was tired. So damn tired. “But Maze, you have to help me find the Detective. Even if only for the urchin who misses her mother. Please.”

Maze let out a bitter chuckle. “What about my mother, Lucifer? You kept my mother from me, and now she’s gone.”

Lucifer sighed, shoulders slouching. “I didn’t want to keep her from you, Maze. I even offered to bring her children to her, to see her, but she was determined not to see any of you. It was her choice to leave you all behind, not mine, and she made me promise not to tell any of you where she was.”

Maze snorted derisively. “Apparently, keeping your word is more important to you than I am!”

Lucifer shook his head. “That’s not true, Maze. You’re my friend, my loyal companion. You’d have followed me to the ends of this universe, and that’s why I granted you your freedom. You’re my friend, my best friend if I’m being honest. I didn’t tell you because just a few years ago, you hated Lilith. I didn’t know you wanted to see her.”

“Maze, please, help me find Chloe,” Lucifer pleaded, which surprised the demon, though she didn’t let it show. Lucifer never pleaded. “I promise, I would take you back to Hell if that’s what you still desire.”

“A soul,” Maze responded, stepping closer to her lord and once master.

Lucifer’s brows raised. “Pardon?” He’d heard her, but he didn’t understand her request.

Maze rolled her eyes. Of course, if one sought to have a deal with the Devil, one would have to be specific. “I want a soul,” she demanded, and Lucifer stiffened. “In exchange for helping you find Chloe, I want a soul.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to change your terms,” Lucifer started, jaw clenching. He had a horrible feeling that Maze would make this hard for him. “Demons can’t have souls.” It’s not like giving souls was up to him, now was it? For Dad’s sake, he wasn’t Satan Claus who delivered souls to those who wish to have one!

Maze’s true face showed, trying to intimidate him. Not that it would have worked. Hello, he was the Devil! Maze’s true face was like Mickey Mouse compared to his. “Don’t make excuses, Lucifer!” She snapped. “Just say that you don’t want to help me because you already found your freaking soulmate!”

Unfazed at the sight of Maze’s anger, Lucifer tilted his head. “What are you—Of course not! If I could, I would give you what you desire, Mazikeen, but sadly, it’s not up to me.” A lone tear trickled from Maze’s milky white eye. “Why do you even want to have a soul? I thought you didn’t want anything to do with feelings…”

“Because not all of us have a father who can make us a girlfriend, Lucifer!” Maze sniffed, bravely trying to hold back her tears. “Unlike you, I have no cosmic lover preassigned! I don’t even have a soul, so how am I supposed to have a soulmate?”

“Is this about…soulmates, Maze? You believe that you need to have a soul in order for someone to care for you and love you?” Lucifer inquired, and Maze remained silent. “Don’t believe that drivel, Maze. There’s no such thing as soulmates.”

He didn’t know where humans got the idea of soulmates because as far as he knew, God didn’t create such a thing. Even Father’s holy book did not say anything about soulmates. The idea of soulmates was ludicrous! Humans were given free will, and God would violate that gift if He paired humans without their consent. Whoever thought that the idea of soulmates romantic was ridiculous.

Maze objected, “But you and Chloe—”

“Are not soulmates,” Lucifer interjected, fiddling with his cuffs. “Chloe and I are not soulmates. We aren’t meant to be. For the longest time, I thought Father had an influence on her, on us, but I was wrong. Father didn’t make me a girlfriend, Mazikeen. Father made someone who had the ability to see me for who I am and choose to be with me anyway. Free will, Mazey. Free will.”

 _I love Chloe,_ Lucifer realized. _Dad, I’m so stupid. I’m in love with Chloe._

Lucifer ran a hand through his hair then looked back at the deathly still Mazikeen. “I chose her, Maze. Despite fate having a hand against us, I chose her. And every day, I choose her, and I know she chooses me. That isn’t destiny. That’s free will.” He pressed a kiss on her forehead as tears streamed down her face. “You may not have a soul, Maze, but you have free will.”

A clap startled the duo, and both turned towards the sound. “As much as I’m enjoying this demon-Devil heart-to-heart moment, I’m afraid I’ll have to interrupt.”

Lucifer’s eyes grew impossibly wide. “Gabe,” he breathed, a smile slowly creeping on his face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you caught my little nod to Jane the Virgin. 
> 
> Happy New Year, everyone!


	8. Excuse me, Preacher. You Got Time For A Sinner?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Excuse me, Preacher. You got time for a sinner?” –Arvin Russell, The Devil All The Time (movie)

Lucifer ran a hand through his hair then looked back at the deathly still Mazikeen. “I chose her, Maze. Despite fate having a hand against us, I chose her. And every day, I choose her, and I know she chooses me. That isn’t destiny. That’s free will.” He pressed a kiss on her forehead as tears streamed down her face. “You may not have a soul, Maze, but you have free will.”

A clap startled the duo, and both turned towards the sound. “As much as I’m enjoying this demon-Devil heart-to-heart moment, I’m afraid I’ll have to interrupt.”

Lucifer’s eyes grew impossibly wide. “Gabe,” he breathed, a smile slowly creeping on his face. 

The Messenger’s hair of beaten gold was slicked back, almost reaching his shoulders, and he had foregone his usual robe in favor of a summer suit. In all the centuries that passed, he had not changed, at least physically. He was still tall and golden with flashing green eyes, and a smile that cut like a knife. But behind his cool façade, there was a tension about him, coiled tightly like a snake that’s ready to strike.

If they weren’t so similar, Lucifer would not have noticed at all.

“Brother,” Gabriel greeted, stepping closer to the Devil and his most loyal demon. “I have come bearing news.”

Mistaking his brother’s words as a prelude to God’s orders, Lucifer scoffed. “Brother, as much as it is good to see you, I don’t take orders from Father. Not anymore. Not since he kicked me out of the Silver City.” After all, the Fall was the price he had to pay for his free will. Not that God had let him be after punishing him.

Gabriel shook his head. “Sam, you don’t understand…I didn’t come here on Father’s behalf. No one’s seen nor talked to Father since Emmanuel’s death.”

Maze stiffened. Every demon knew not to call Lucifer by his God-given name, yet here was Gabriel, addressing the Lord of Hell by his angelic name so casually. Even more dumbfounding was Lucifer’s reaction or lack thereof. His silence struck Maze more than anything he could have done at that moment. She’d always thought that his repulsion of his angelic name was singular, but she never thought there was more to it than being “of God”.

Lucifer’s brows furrowed. Not too long ago, Father had spoken to Amenadiel, prompting the Eldest to leave his post in Hell. What was God up to? Heaven seemed to be none the wiser of The Almighty’s recent communication with Amenadiel, and he wagered that his siblings upstairs also didn’t know about Father’s revelation about Mother’s escape from Hell, which would mean that Uriel had truly gone rogue.

“Except Michael, right? Amenadiel told me Michael had sidled himself a place beside Father, His right hand,” Lucifer calmly replied. He’d long ago made peace with his being replaceable in God’s eyes. Being the so-called favorite had not done him any good. At least, being the outcast would put him out of YHWH’s scrutiny.

“And, of course, when Father had Amenadiel bless Penelope Decker to be a vessel for His miracle,” Lucifer added. Once, he would not have been able to say those words out loud without being overcome with bitterness on God’s meddling, but Chloe had accepted him for who he was, and he knew she was much more than just a miracle.

She was everything to him, his star of Bethlehem, guiding him towards the path of light. She inspired him to be good, to wake up every morning and be a better man than he was the day before. She had taught him hope with her optimism, joy with her happiness, and love with her presence.

“No, brother, Father had made His Will known to me so that I could relay it to Amenadiel. I am the Messenger, after all,” Gabriel started, looking worriedly at the Lord of Hell. If Samael decided to, Father forbid, smite him where he stood, well, he deserved it. He knew that Father had planned something for his fallen brother, and he knew that Samael hated being manipulated, yet he had done nothing. He had stood by and watched just as he had done when his brother had fallen. “But Michael is the Prince of Heaven, and without Father’s guidance, most of our siblings had flocked to him in their desperation to have a purpose.”

“Well, why not call on Father then, Gabe? You are the Messenger, after all,” Lucifer sassed, raising a sculpted brow.

Gabriel had been expecting explosive anger, but his brother’s cold indifference was all the more terrifying in its unpredictability. In Heaven, Samael was, perhaps, the most impulsive of them all, diving headfirst into things, never really contemplating the consequences of his actions. In that, he was Mother’s son through and through, but now that he was showing restraint, Gabriel saw a different side to him. Gabriel saw the King who had been tempered in suffering, forced to learn reticence in his exile among the very creatures whom he had sworn to fight against. In this, he was Father’s son, just and detached and burdened with all the responsibilities of a ruler, of a crown he never even wanted. 

“Father has gone where none of us could follow, Sammy,” Gabriel sighed, and for the first time, Lucifer could behold the eons that both he and his brother had lived through in the Strength of God’s weariness. Humans think immortality was something to covet, but it wasn’t. Immortality was a curse that rendered every moment ordinary. There’s nothing special about celebrating a life that would never end. There’s no awe in _firsts_ because there would be no _lasts._

“So He’s gone. So our siblings are no more than mindless idiots. What’s changed?” Lucifer questioned, daring the older archangel to give a better reason for him to intervene in Heaven’s affairs. The last time he did so, he had burned for it.

Gabriel steeled himself before looking away from Lucifer’s penetrating gaze. “Everything’s changed, Sam. The Host is in disarray, and the hordes are...” He trailed off, gulping before he continued. “There are talks of unrest within the hordes.”

Lucifer’s jaw clenched, and Maze stiffened. “Unrest? Within the hordes of Hell? Again? Those bloody demons don’t let up, do they?” Then his eyes blazed red, and Gabriel stepped back in surprise. He hadn’t known that hellfire had desecrated the Lightbringer’s eyes. It was gone as fast as it came, and Lucifer, as if remembering a vital piece of information, regained his nonchalance. There was a missing piece in the puzzle that Gabriel was trying to solve, and Lucifer knew it.

“But, brother, you really didn’t have to worry,” Lucifer added, and Gabriel’s brows furrowed. _So there is something._ “The Gates of Hell had been fortified. Father Himself had spoken to Amenadiel directly. Hell no longer needs a warden, brother.”

Gabriel shot the Devil a look that said, _And you didn’t think to mention this to me earlier?_

Lucifer raised a hand. “I’m sure that you already know this, but a few months ago, I had to go back to Hell,” Lucifer began. “Demons had defied me, possessed hell-bound humans to convince me to go back, but when I refused, they kidnapped Charlie to mold him as their new king.”

Gabriel was horrified. He had known that Lucifer had gone back to Hell to protect the humans, but he hadn’t known that they kidnapped the little Nephilim. Hell was no place for an infant, even a half-celestial one.

“Hell was different when I returned. The demons had become more treacherous. There were countless rebellions that I had to put down, and so I stayed. I couldn’t return to L.A. for fear of Hell spilling on Earth,” Lucifer continued, and Maze stared at her former master. Her anger towards him bled out to be replaced with gratefulness. He had returned to Hell without her, saving her from millennia of fighting that could have ended her life, all the while longing to return to his life on earth. He saved her from being ripped from her human friends, and dare she say it, family.

Then Lucifer’s eyes hardened. “But Michael had gone too far, and Amenadiel agreed to guard Hell for the time being while I went topside and sorted everything out. A few days later, just as I was preparing to go back, Amenadiel had informed me that Father had spoken to him and that Hell no longer needed to be guarded by a celestial.”

“Well, that certainly lessens our problems,” Gabe murmured, digesting everything that Lucifer had told him. “But Heaven is still in disarray, and we still need your help, Sammy.”

Bollocks.

“What do you mean by ‘our problems,’ brother? You lot have certainly lost the right to call me family when Father cast me into Hell while you all did nothing!” Lucifer sneered, and Maze assumed a fighting stance, ready to protect her friend even though she knew it was unlikely that Gabriel would attack the Devil. “I have more important matters to attend to. Heaven could burn down for all I care.”

Once, a lifetime ago, he told Mum that Hell wasn’t home, and Heaven was hell. But he wasn’t sure how much of that had changed now that he had changed. Still, Chloe was his home. Not Heaven. Not Hell.

Gabriel anticipated this answer, and he had come prepared. “Why don’t we make a deal then, Sam?” Gabriel proposed, almost groveling to his younger brother for help. “I will help you find your detective, and in return, you will help save Heaven.”

“And what will your help entail, hmm, Gabe?” Lucifer asked, humoring his brother, pulling out his cigarette case.

“I’ve heard you were looking for a guy. Someone who calls himself the LilyMan…” Gabriel trailed off.

Lucifer’s head snapped towards the older archangel. “How do you know this?” He demanded with a threatening undertone.

Gabriel scratched the back of his neck. “Well,” he began sheepishly, “I may have listened in to your conversation with the human that was incarcerated, the one whom you addressed as the copycat. And I may have _borrowed_ the Book of Life when Metatron was not looking.”

Lucifer’s eyes widened. “So you know his real name? This LilyMan?” Lucifer asked eagerly. And at Gabriel’s affirmative nod, Lucifer held out his hand. “You have a deal, brother. But make no mistake, Gabe. If I find out that you lied to me, the deal is null and void. There will be hell to pay.” Lucifer didn’t think that Gabriel would lie to him, but he felt the need to state his condition. He would not be called a liar.

Gabriel hadn’t even thought of betraying his brother. Breaking a deal with the Devil? Well, that could be anything but good for him. And the multiverse, for that matter—cosmic wars never ended well. Gabriel nodded before shaking Lucifer’s hand, sealing the deal.

“Sammy, the LilyMan that you seek is a man named Pete Daily,” Gabriel revealed as Lucifer and Maze stood in shocked silence. If Gabriel had read it from the Book of Life, then it could only be the truth. There could be a lot of men named Pete Daily, but the pretentious, brown-haired prat’s sudden interest in Ms. Lopez could not be a coincidence. Lucifer wagered that the man had been using Ms. Lopez to gather information from the LAPD to stay one step ahead of them. 

Lucifer knew there was a reason why he hated the young journalist!

Rage followed Gabriel’s revelation, and Lucifer found himself changing, itching to punish Pete who had fooled them all. Ms. Lopez would be devastated, he knew. And Chloe…

Hellfire licked Lucifer’s hands, its reappearance accompanied by the smell of fire and brimstone, rendering both the daughter of Lilith and the Messenger speechless. The shadows around them swirled, twisting and bending at the anger that was reverberating from the Prince of Darkness until it stopped altogether.

Lucifer had his eyes shut tight, knuckles white, as he breathed and fought hard to control the sudden burst of power that was feeding off of his anger. He gritted his teeth as he felt the heat ebb from his body, and when he unclenched his fists, the hellfire subsided then vanished. 

Maze was the first to come out of her stupor. “What the hell, Lucifer?” She’d never seen him wield hellfire before. At least, not like this.

Lucifer sighed. “Exactly, Maze.” Then he turned to Gabriel who looked mournful and sick at the same time. He addressed his older brother. “I know it’s different…from when I was—Do you see now, brother? Something is wrong with me. I am a monster.” Gabriel was the older brother that he liked most. When he was a fledgling, Gabe was the one who taught him how to fly and groom his wings. So Gabriel’s witnessing of the flickering of his glamour, the revealing of his nastier side, felt like losing the favor of the one sibling who had not been repulsed by him after the Fall.

Alright, that may be a bit of an exaggeration. Azrael did apologize, after all, and the other archangels had always held a soft spot for him (though he wasn’t sure how much of that was still true), except Michael, of course.

“Is this Father’s great plan? For me to bring about the end of the world so that His kingdom on Earth will be realized? His glorious reign? Or am I being punished for corrupting His miracle?” He added quietly as if he did not want anybody else to hear.

Gabriel could not believe what he just heard. His little brother had labeled himself a monster, but every time Gabriel looked upon the fallen archangel, all he could see was the fledgling with the rosiest cheeks and brightest smile, whose wings shone with the brilliance of the stars but could barely glide in the air. All he could see was the mischievous little angel whose head of raven black curls ran wild as he played. All he could see was little Samael who shadowed God’s every step, never more content than when he was in Father’s arms.

 _What have they done to you, brother,_ Gabriel wanted to cry out. _What have they done to make you see yourself as a monster?_

Protectiveness over his youngest brother surged in Gabriel’s chest. “You are not a monster,” Gabriel stated firmly. “You have suffered that which no other angel has, and because of that, you have become stronger.”

Lucifer studied the demon and the archangel, beside himself with melancholy. “But I don’t know how to fix me!” Lucifer argued, and Maze visibly blanched.

“You do not need fixing because you are not damaged,” Gabriel assured, taking in the spark of hope in the Devil’s eyes. “You’re different. You have always been different, and I don’t think being different qualifies as being broken.” He’d often wondered why God made a Samael a willful angel only to allow him to be cast out, but he’d never gotten any answer, and he knew he never would. The secret things belonged to the Lord, and He was not obliged to tell anyone.

Tears shone in Lucifer’s eyes. “Thank you, Gabe,” Lucifer whispered hoarsely, gifting his favorite older brother with a watery smile. “I needed that.”

Maze coughed, ruining the brothers’ soft reunion. There were millennia of history, missed opportunities, between the brothers, and she couldn’t deal with feelings, at least not of this scale. “So Lucifer’s tethered to Hell, and angel boy here tells us that Pete—Ellen’s Pete—is the real killer,” she recounted, straight to the point as always. 

Gabriel made to reprimand Maze for her apparent disrespect but thought better of it. “Angel boy!” He muttered indignantly, shooting a withering look towards Lucifer. _Rein in your demon, Samael,_ he prayed. _Is she always so callous?_

 _Demon, brother, so there’s nothing we can really do about it,_ Lucifer prayed back. It was so easy to fall back on this heavenly form of communication. After he’d fallen, he had no use for prayers, and when he abdicated his throne, he had used praying to annoy Amenadiel, hoping that the stubborn Dominion would finally get off of his back.

The most baffling thing was he didn’t mind his being called Samael by the Messenger. When Amenadiel would chase Lucifer off Earth, the Eldest would speak his true name with such terrible disappointment, leaving the fallen angel aching every time it happened. It’s not like he wanted to fall now, did he? When Michael had goaded him in the penthouse, the Sword had uttered Samael with pure venom, which left a bitter taste in Lucifer’s mouth. He’d never really understood his twin’s unwarranted anger. Gabriel, though, had no expectations of Samael. Gabriel had no quarrel with Samael.

Maybe that was the reason why he didn’t mind.

A hell-forged blade hurled towards Lucifer’s face pulled him out of his musings. He caught the blade deftly and shot a glare towards the smirking demon. “Bloody hell, Maze, you know very well that these blades sting like a bit—”

Maze cut him off mid whine, plucking her blade from his grasp while Gabriel watched in stunned silence. “I knew you weren’t paying attention,” she shrugged, unapologetic. “So, what are we going to do with Ellen’s boyfriend?”

“What do you mean ‘what are we going to do with Ellen’s boyfriend’?” Ms. Lopez asked, carrying a thick folder that contained the transcripts.

Oh, Dad!

“Uh, well, Ms. Lopez,” Lucifer began, already thinking of a way to tell her a portion of the truth while obscuring the other part, the part that he knew would hurt her. “You see—”

“Quiero que te calles, Lucifer!” Ms. Lopez interjected, cutting off Lucifer’s bluff. Crossing her arms, she raised an eyebrow. “Now, Maze, what did you mean with that?” She was a spitfire, that Ms. Lopez.

Gabriel almost guffawed when the petite woman had successfully managed to silence his normally irrepressible brother. Lucifer lowered his head like a kicked puppy, and Gabriel nearly knelt in front of the fierce human woman. Who would have thought that the fallen angel was capable of shutting up?

Maze stared down the Latina. “Angel boy over there,” she began, pointing towards Gabriel, “informed us that the real killer is none other than Pete Daily. Your Pete Daily.”

Gabriel visibly bristled at the demon’s intended slight, but he remained silent otherwise.

Ms. Lopez narrowed her eyes at the Messenger. “And who’s he?” Her piercing dark eyes knocked the breath out of Gabriel’s chest, leaving him breathless like a fish out of water.

Gabriel cleared his throat, puffing out his chest, while the demon and the Devil rolled their eyes. “Be not afraid, human, for I am the Archangel Gabriel, the Strength of God,” he declared with all the pomp and blare of a knight riding out towards the tourney stands.

His usage of his other title did not escape the younger archangel’s notice, however.

Lucifer groaned. “Oh, Eros, what hast thy doneth?” He muttered under his breath, basically witnessing heart eyes replace his brother’s green ones.

The hallway’s poor illumination and lack of wind, however, robbed the golden-haired archangel of his usual dramatics. He had received no awe-inspired smile from the forensic tech. Instead, she shot an unimpressed look towards the Devil. “Lucifer, I know you’re a method actor, but you don’t have to drag others into your method acting.”

Gabriel startled, confusion marring his features. “But it’s true! I am the Archangel Gabriel, the Messenger of God. I announced the birth of Emmanuel, and I am the Herald of the Heavenly Host!” He insisted, looking towards his little brother for help. “Tell her, brother.”

Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew it was futile to try and change Ms. Lopez’s mind. Like Chloe, she would need evidence to believe him even though she had faith in the divine. “Ms. Lopez, meet my elder brother, Gabriel. He’s God’s messenger, the one who was mentioned in your Bible.”

Ms. Lopez looked “Gabriel” up and down. Gabriel towered over her much as his brother did, but he was a few inches shorter than the civilian consultant. Where the self-proclaimed Devil was dark and mysterious, the self-proclaimed Archangel was golden and jovial. Her friend Lucifer was all sin and temptation, while Gabriel projected a certain softness and naivety. But in spite of their differences, the brothers both had aristocratic features that made them seem ethereal somehow.

Ms. Lopez nodded slowly. “So he’s your brother, and he told you that Pete is LilyMan85?”

“You’re on point, Ms. Lopez! Lucifer beamed, adjusting his cufflinks. “Right, so how do we go about on the arrest?”

Ms. Lopez closed her eyes. “Wait, wait, wait...you can’t just arrest Pete, Lucifer! You don’t even have proof that he’s the killer. For all we know, your ‘brother’ is just trying to frame him,” she argued, shooting a glare towards Gabriel.

Before Gabriel had a chance to reply, Maze scoffed. “Angel boy? A liar? Ha! He wouldn’t dare lie because Daddy told him not to!” She snarked, knowing how devoted Gabriel was in serving the Lord. “Come on, Ellen, the lot of them are spineless idiots. Why do you think Lucifer’s the only one who burned?” 

“Demon, I have had enough of you!” Gabriel roared, advancing towards Maze, but Lucifer intercepted his approach. Gabriel wasn’t the Strength of God for nothing. He would have wiped the floor with the feisty demon.

“Now is not the time, Gabe!” Lucifer rebuked, pulling his brother away from the smirking Mazikeen. “Now, I need you to explain to Ms. Lopez how you got the information.”

Unexpectedly, blood rushed in Gabriel’s cheeks. “I-I borrowed the Book of Life when Metatron wasn’t looking,” he stuttered, scratching the back of his neck. “As per Michael’s orders, Metatron made a separate section for humans whose deaths were being investigated by Chloe Decker and Sam. And there it was written: Dianne Luna, opera singer, murdered by Pete Daily or otherwise known as LilyMan85.”

“You know what? Just stop!” Ms. Lopez exploded, and Lucifer sighed. He knew she wouldn’t believe them. “Metatron? Book of Life? Just stop talking about this nonsense! Please, the real killer is out there, so can you guys stop wasting time fixating on Pete?”

“But Gabriel’s telling the truth, Ms. Lopez!” Lucifer defended, stepping closer to the lab tech. The Latina opened her mouth to reprimand him, but Lucifer continued before she could do so. “And I know that you don’t believe me every time I tell you I’m the Devil, but you have to trust me. You have to trust that I will never do anything to jeopardize the Detective’s safety, so I would never joke about these things. Pete is the real killer.”

She’d once trusted him with a non-grave grave, and he hoped she would trust him again. “Ms. Lopez,” Lucifer implored, “we’re going to Pete’s house, and you’re not going to stop us. You’re also not coming with us.”

Ms. Lopez stepped back. “No, Lucifer! You don’t even know where he lives!” She retorted, and Lucifer allowed a small smile to creep on his face. He knew he’d gotten her trust when she was angrier at not being able to go than their plan to raid Pete’s house to look for evidence. He very well knew that what they were doing was illegal, but a little B&E can’t hurt, can it? And besides, he wouldn’t be the Devil if he played by the rules now, would he?

Lucifer smirked, dimples appearing on his cheeks. “Don’t I, Ms. Lopez?” He asked, raising a perfect brow.

Ms. Lopez stared at him, wide-eyed with something akin to sisterly love. “You…you were looking out for me,” she breathed out, stunned at the Devil’s apparent concern for her. There was no question that he was going all big brother on her, and she was really touched. He’d never say it, but she knew he liked her trademark hugs.

“He’s going out with one of my closest friends,” Lucifer explained, adjusting his suit jacket. _And one whom I consider as a sister no less,_ was what he didn’t say. Her watery smile was enough to remind him of his mission.

Lucifer motioned for both Maze and his brother to head out. “Remember, Ms. Lopez, you have to call to the precinct. Make sure that you direct them towards your vile boyfriend’s house…”

“Lucifer!” She chastised, but she didn’t correct him. Lucifer didn’t lie, but even so, she couldn’t reconcile sweet and shy Pete to the man that Lucifer had adamantly accused him to be. But she didn’t really know him, and she’d only met him, like, a little over two weeks ago, and her gut was telling her that everything was moving too fast. Deep in her bones, she knew that something was wrong.

She pulled out her phone to place a call, forgetting that her boyfriend could be a serial killer. And wasn’t that a dangerous thought? That he had gotten close to her to escape justice by gathering information on their cases. That he had been able to hurt somebody else because he was one step ahead of the LAPD the whole time.

She shook her head.

She would have time to have a break down later once everything that happened had sunk in.

Gabriel cleared his throat. “Brother, I think I’ll visit Amenadiel instead of coming with you,” he began, halting his steps abruptly, the Devil almost colliding with his back. “I’d like to see our nephew. He is the first Nephilim of the modern age, after all.”

Lucifer nodded. “I will not keep you for any longer, Gabe,” he dismissed, striding towards the Corvette, the demon following closely behind him. They didn’t really need him because it’s not like they were on a hunt for demons or deities from other pantheons. 

As Gabriel flew away in a flurry of gold and black feathers, Maze snorted. “Wuss,” she muttered, though it did not escape Lucifer’s notice.

“Do you really have to antagonize Gabriel?” He asked, even though he knew what her answer would be before she even opened her mouth to speak.

“Of course, I have to. He’s an angel,” Maze replied, getting in at the passenger seat of the Corvette as if that was the only reason why she was deliberately trying to get on the angel’s nerves. She’d never say it, of course, but she didn’t like Lucifer’s siblings. They abandoned him for—for asking questions! She’d betrayed him and everything, but Lucifer never abandoned her and continued to look out for her even. For that reason alone, she would antagonize the whole Heavenly Host. 

Lucifer shook his head then sped away towards Pete’s house, on a hunt once more with his most loyal demon. Just like old times. Their hunts in Hell seemed so far away—a lifetime ago—that he could scarce believe how much he and Maze had changed.

Who’d have thought that a demon could ever want to have a soul?

Who’d have thought that the Devil would love and be loved in return?

—

Pete’s house was ordinary, too ordinary to belong. It was obvious that he was trying hard to blend in, to fool his neighbors just like how he fooled Dianne Luna and the others. It was quite brilliant, actually, the human stain’s house. It was simple, not unlike the other houses of the neighborhood. The exterior was dominated with grey, the stark white door and clear window panes provided a nice juxtaposition. There was a short cobbled pathway, highlighted by the cacti that surrounded it, and a wooden plank that was carved with the lot number.

Lucifer didn’t bother to knock, crushing the door handle in his grip, the door coming off its hinges at his strength. He didn’t know what he had been expecting, perhaps a few dead bodies and torture devices, but he did not quite prepare for something so—so normal. It was just like any other house, messy and common and something one would expect from a young journalist.

There was a wooden coat rack, a desk filled with books and pens, a couch, a chaise lounge, and a laundry basket. Lucifer couldn’t believe this man’s temerity! It was like Pete had taken the cheapest furniture he could buy from Ikea then threw it all in his living room. What a mess!

Lucifer, at least, had the decency not to touch the man’s dirty laundry (not that he wanted to), opting to go look for hidden rooms, but Maze had no such qualms. She took a can of coconut water from the fridge, drinking as she raided the bedroom for evidence. (Just what kind of evidence Maze was looking for, well…)

Lucifer’s supernatural hearing picked up a whirring sound, which confused him for a moment. But as he realized that the wall he had been standing in front of was not a true wall, he punched it with barely an effort. As he pulled his hand back, violet light spilled from the hole that he had punched. Peering through it, he was able to see Pete’s artificial garden, blooming white Stargazer lilies perched on top of some kind of table, no doubt ready to be used in Pete’s nefarious jaunts.

So Gabriel was right. Not that he was surprised his brother was right, but that didn’t mean that he wanted it to be right either. For Ms. Lopez’s sake, he had hoped his brother was wrong even though he knew that it was impossible for the Book of Life to have errors.

Footsteps echoed from behind him. “Tell me, what is it you desire, Pete,” Lucifer began, turning slowly to address the human, “Or should I say LilyMan85?” There was no ringing sound in the air, for Lucifer hadn’t needed to use his mojo. 

“I really wish you hadn’t figured it out,” Pete sighed as if Lucifer was a mere inconvenience rather than the wrench that tore his entire plan apart. Pete pulled out a syringe, which contained a paralytic substance that would render a human paralyzed. But Lucifer was no human, and Pete did not know this.

Pete clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Ells will be devastated. You’re important to her, you know?” Then he smiled sadly. “But, for what it’s worth, I liked you too. There’s darkness in you that I’ve only ever seen in myself, and, well, Ella.”

Lucifer scoffed, venom dripped from his words as he spoke. “Please, you and I are nothing alike, and Ms. Lopez is the nicest, brightest forensic scientist I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. You will not taint her with your words or your presence. I won’t allow it. I won’t allow you to hurt her.”

When Pete’s expression remained blank, Lucifer boldly stepped closer to him. “Why did you kill those women? They’ve done nothing but believe in your lies. You promised them the world, but you’ve only given them pain.”

“They talked too much, talked too loud,” Pete shrugged, which annoyed Lucifer more than his detachment ever could. “Did you know my mother loved her lilies more than she ever loved me? She screamed at me all day, every day. Can you even imagine how that hurt? To know that your mother’s lily garden was more important to her than you will ever be?”

“Oh, you have no idea how much I understand,” Lucifer answered, itching to run a hand through his hair as memories of his Mum and Dad’s treachery rapidly flashed in his mind.

Pete smirked, “See, we’re not so different, you and I. Our parents have failed us.” Then he looked up at the ceiling, reminiscing. “My mother’s screams didn’t hurt as much as her words had, but one day, I realized I just felt…nothing. No hurt, no fear, no anything. Just nothing. It was glorious.”

Oh, how many times had Lucifer wished not to feel anything? God had cursed him with feelings that burned bright and hurt like hell. His millennia in Gehenna would have been a lot easier if he was as immovable and cold as God had been when he was thrown out of Heaven, though, he supposed, it wouldn’t be a punishment if he didn’t actually suffer.

He would never admit it, but the injustice inflicted upon the innocent tore at him because even if he had fallen from his Heavenly perch, he was still an angel. He was still the Angel of Light, filled with passion and life that sustained the very first of Creation. He’d helped create all sentient beings in the multiverse, but of all the creatures that he helped God mold, humans were his most beloved. He loved them enough to fall for what they had, and wasn’t that tragic? That Humans got to have free will, but their champion, the angel who shaped the first of them according to God’s Will had all but begged for scraps?

“Our parents have failed us, that much is true, but that doesn’t give you an excuse to kill those unsuspecting women. People don’t just kill because their mums were mean to them,” Lucifer countered, steel in his voice, but then a horrible thought occurred to him. “You, you malcontent you! You were planning to kill Ms. Lopez too! She certainly fits your M.O...”

Pete shook his head. “It may have started that way, but it evolved. Everything she says is so…nice. I thought I could finally feel something, but nope.” Then he pulled out a list from his jacket pocket. “See, I even did everything right: I took her out on a date and invited her to that stupid convention thing, but still nothing.”

Lucifer clapped. “Yes, congratulations, you fooled her!” He drawled, realizing that Pete would belong to the section of Hell with locks on hell loops once he popped off. He was a psychopath. Psycho Pete.

“Thank you, but it didn’t work. The only time I feel something is when I hear them choke in their own blood, unable to talk,” Pete exhaled, retaining the detached look on his face. “Kind of like how you will be later on. I’ve never killed a man before, but however impressive you may seem, you’re still just a man.” Then he moved to stab Lucifer with the syringe, but a precisely thrown blade cut through the syringe like a knife would butter before it ever touched the Devil’s invulnerable skin.

“Excuse me, Preacher. You got time for a sinner?” Maze chimed in, a manic grin on her face, before throwing a knife on Pete’s shoulder. “Hearing him talk was getting kind of boring. Glad he started getting stabby or I might have stabbed him first.”

“Impeccable timing, as ever, Maze,” Lucifer praised, and the demon bowed her head a little in acknowledgment. He picked up Pete from his collar, and the man had only grunted in response. Lucifer leaned down to whisper in his ear. “You and I are nothing alike. My parents’ trespasses are on literal Biblical proportions, and you wouldn’t know something about that. Now, tell me, Psycho Pete, where is Chloe?”

Pete’s brows furrowed. “Chloe? Detective Decker? Why would I know where she is?” He groaned, trying to move his injured shoulder with no care for Lucifer’s vice-like grip.

Lucifer’s eyes flashed a deep crimson, and Pete’s head reared back in surprise. Mr. I-can’t-feel-anything wasn’t so emotionless, after all. “Where is Chloe? Answer me!” He growled, and the house trembled at the reverberation of his demonic voice.

Pete raised his uninjured hand in a symbol of placation. “I don’t know, okay. I didn’t take her. I swear, I didn’t do anything to her,” Pete replied, and though he was shaken, he didn’t go insane like the others. There was no guilt in him, but his words rang true in his Lucifer’s ears.

As the Lord of Hell’s back stiffened, biting cold slithered on Maze’s spine and a sense of foreboding washed over her. She hit Pete over the head, his body going slack in Lucifer’s grip as she waited for Lucifer’s wrath to be realized. Maze almost slapped a hand on her forehead. She had inadvertently saved the irredeemable bastard from a life of, at the very least, deafness.

Her King had looked out towards the blue skies while still holding Pete like a ragdoll, and he howled, deep and wounded, and promising retribution. At the sound of his voice, the sun had hidden behind the clouds, and thunder roared from above. The waves folded in themselves and the trees quivered in fear. The earth had strained under the face of Lucifer’s fury, and the shadows all around them bowed in subservience.

There was something wholly satisfying in the unmistakable ripples created by her overlord’s anger that echoed in the very fabrics of Creation itself. In this, he was all too human, all fire and passion and righteous rage. In this, he was the Devil with the same wrath that tamed the raging hellfire and shaped the pillars that loomed and would loom over Hell for all eternity.

She couldn’t imagine how unpleasant it was for those residing in the Silver City, celestials and mortals alike. The King of Hell’s ten thousand demonic voices was anything but, and it was imbued with such strong Will that the planes would not be able to resist. His brethren’s ears must be bleeding from the sudden sound of his voice, and she knew that his intent had allowed his internal screaming to carry on to his prayers towards his siblings, amplifying the terrifying sound that they heard.

There was no doubt that Gabriel and Amenadiel both heard him, but she decided they were fine. After all, Lucifer had focused his assault on those in Heaven.

By Lucifer’s Dad, if he decided to storm Heaven, Maze wagered he would win for the sole reason that the whole Host was incapacitated because of his howl. She hoped Michael was in Heaven. She hoped his ears were bleeding. She hoped he was on his knees, pleading for a reprieve from the horrible sound.

Why was everyone so wary of the Fear of God, she wondered. If God was so loving and forgiving, shouldn’t humans be warier of the Fear of the Devil?

They had forgotten him, she realized. They had forgotten what Lucifer was truly capable of. He’d spent his time acclimatizing to humanity, trying to make himself more human to fit in, that they had forgotten that before anything else, he was other. And eons ago, he was second only to God and Goddess in power, although she suspected that because of the hellish powers that he acquired once he started ruling Hell, the measure of his might could have changed as well.

His duality, she decided, made him the strongest of all the angels. His wings were a consecration by God, a symbol of something hallowed. His burns were a desecration by Hell, a symbol of sacrilege that permeated his life after Heaven. Then it dawned on her that his angelic visage was just as true as his devilish one; that one was as real as the other. He was born a celestial and forged an infernal.

Millennia have passed, and she stood beside him. Millennia would pass, and still, she would stand beside him.

Lucifer dropped Pete carelessly on the floor as he stepped out from the house, his eyes dimming to its usual dark brown hue. In his haste to calm down, he hadn’t noticed the single flower that grew on the cobbled path. As the ends of his Louboutin’s touched the flower, it wilted.

This unusual occurrence did not escape the demon’s attention, and as she remembered what happened in the Arts District earlier, a deeply unpleasant feeling settled in her gut. Something was going to happen, and she just knew that Lucifer would be at the center of it all.

Fuck, she should have listened to Amenadiel when he was talking about the Winds of Change.

But she was sure now of what was happening. Lucifer was leaking power— such strong power for it to affect the flower just by touching his shoes. If anything, this episode just cemented her belief that they were on the precipice of war. Just how big of a war, she wasn’t sure. Although, for the sake of the humans, she hoped it was just a little demonic rebellion. Humanity was far too young for the apocalypse to start.

But everything happened for a reason, arbitrarily or otherwise, most often due to divine providence. And then it all clicked.

“Lucifer!” She called, halting the Devil’s pace. “I know who took Chloe, and you’re not going to like it.”

Lucifer loomed in front of her in a blink of an eye, his jaw clenching in his bid to stay calm.

“Michael took Chloe!” Maze continued, willing herself not to avert her gaze from Lucifer’s intimidating stare. “That’s why her disappearance is not making any sense! Pete doesn’t know where she is because it’s Michael that kidnapped her. Think about it. Chloe goes missing, and you’re driving yourself crazy looking for her. You are coming undone at the seams, Lucifer!”

Lucifer knew that something’s gone horribly bad when his demon started making sense. Most of the time, all Maze talked about was sex and violence, but she was onto something. Scratch that, Maze was his most intelligent demon, and she was insightful too, provided that she’s actually serious about helping. Or, you know, just serious.

“Maze,” Lucifer started, a dangerous glint in his eyes, “I think it’s time to summon a hellhound. If Michael really did take her, we will need Hell’s best trackers.”

Hellhounds were fiercer than even some demon races. They were loyal only to Lucifer and had infernal capabilities that allowed them to teleport. This came in handy whenever there was an unfeeling, hell-bound soul that got mixed up with the average guilty souls. 

“Fucking hell yeah!” Maze cheered. She did miss the loyal beasts that followed her everywhere. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh, you guys!!! I'm so so sooooo sorry this took, like, more than a month to be posted, but I imagine I will be able to post more frequently now that the semester has officially ended! I just about died with all the final requirements that I had to pass, and I just wanted to thank you all for being patient. Love you all so much!! 
> 
> Also, if you've spotted my AGOT reference, well, Valar Morghulis to you. Anyway, I think the Book of Life is a thing to some Christian denominations and also some lores about Metatron, who, according to the deuterocanonical book of Enoch, was the actual Enoch, son of Jared, before God made him an angel after his death at age 365. Watching Lucifer had prompted me to dig deeper into the whole Biblical stuff, and I'm kind of obsessing over Angelology at the moment, so there's that. 
> 
> Translation:  
> "Quiero que te calles, Lucifer" = "Shut your mouth, Lucifer" Or "Shut up, Lucifer" 
> 
> Shit will get real next chapter (if I remember the order correctly, that is), but yeah! I also have a little Deckerstar ASOIAF and Bridgerton AU that's in the works, and I'm kind of excited to post them, actually.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhhhh!! *Clicks post*
> 
> Basically, this one features a more ambitious Michael. Like his plan here is probably bigger than the one he has on the show. Also, there's a non-countdown countdown, and if you're wondering why Michael is obsessing over his plan, well, the clue is in his name. 
> 
> This may be a short first chapter, but I kid you not, the next one is a monster! 
> 
> Thoughts? Comments? Predictions?


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